"That's nothin'," he asserted, with a twinkle in his blue eyes, "seems to me all of us are pretty much that way right now. And is it to be wondered at, when we took a twenty-five mile run last night without bein' seasoned to the saddle. But given time, and we'll get as tough as any puncher around. I think we've done right well for a pack of greenhorns." "There, your mentioning that word pack makes me think of our burros and their loads," remarked Ned. "I wonder what became of them." "I remember seeing one of the punchers leading the donkeys into the stable," Harry went on to say, "and p'raps we might find them there. Let's stroll in and see if Teddy'd know us again, the rascal." And as the others were agreeable, they sauntered over to the stable where some of the cowboys' mounts were kept at times, and which usually housed the saddles and other trappings of the puncher band belonging to the ranch. It just happened by accident that all of the scouts stopped talking as they approached the long, low building, outside of which could be seen the stout rail at which throughout the day ponies could be seen hitched, sometimes as many as a dozen or a score at a time. Ned was in the van, and as he stepped into the doorway of the stable he came to a sudden stop and held up his hand in a warning way that the others instantly recognized as a signal for them to halt in their tracks. No one said a single word, only Jimmy, who was lagging along in the rear, pushed forward as though anxious to get in line, so as to see what it was that had excited the attention of the scout master. A number of ponies were in the stalls, as well as the donkeys that the boys had brought all the way from Death Valley, and which they had purchased from a party of dejected prospectors desirous of returning home. There was a man there also, whose back was turned toward them, but whom they immediately recognized as Ally Sloper, the suspected ally of the rustler gang. He had taken down the three packs that came with the burros and belonged to the scouts, and appeared to be eagerly searching the same, evidently bent on learning what they might contain. It happened that just at the very moment the scouts stood there in the open doorway, Sloper made a discovery that caused him to give vent to a low cry of anger and amazement. When Ned saw what he held in his hand he did not wonder that the spy was shocked. It was nothing more nor less than the dead homing pigeon the hawk had pounced on, and which with its fateful message had afterwards fallen into the possession of the four scouts, thus putting them wise to the fact that there was treachery afloat at the cattle ranch. When Ally Sloper saw the nature of his find he understood how it came that his clever game had gone against him so heavily, with the prize herd saved from the rustlers' raid. CHAPTER XVII. THE SHREWD OLD FOX.