"But I had forgotten that it was no easy matter to keep these high-spirited boys, bent on a row, in decent subjection; and after the third hour passed without a supernatural exhibition, I observed, from certain winks and whispers, that they were determined to get up indications of their own. In a few moments violent rappings were heard from all parts of the cabin; large stones (adroitly thrown up the chimney) fell with a heavy thud on the roof. Strange groans and ominous yells seemed to come from the outside (where the interstices between the logs were wide enough). Yet, through all this uproar, our host sat still and patient, with no sign of indignation or reproach upon his good-humored but haggard features. Before long it became evident that this exhibition was exclusively for HIS benefit. Under the thin disguise of asking him to assist them in discovering the disturbers OUTSIDE the cabin, those inside took advantage of his absence to turn the cabin topsy-turvy. "'You see what the spirits have done, old man,' said the arch leader of this mischief. 'They've upset that there flour barrel while we wasn't looking, and then kicked over the water jug and spilled all the water!' "The patient man lifted his head and looked at the flour-strewn walls. Then he glanced down at the floor, but drew back with a slight tremor. "'It ain't water!' he said, quietly. "'What is it, then?' "'It's BLOOD! Look!' "The nearest man gave a sudden start and sank back white as a sheet. "For there, gentlemen, on the floor, just before the door, where the old man had seen the dog hesitate and lift his feet, there! there!--gentlemen--upon my honor, slowly widened and broadened a dark red pool of human blood! Stop him! Quick! Stop him, I say!" There was a blinding flash that lit up the dark woods, and a sharp report! When we reached the Doctor's side he was holding the smoking pistol, just discharged, in one hand, while with the other he was pointing to the rapidly disappearing figure of Juan, our Mexican vaquero! "Missed him! by G-d!" said the Doctor. "But did you hear him? Did you see his livid face as he rose up at the name of blood? Did you see his guilty conscience in his face. Eh? Why don't you speak? What are you staring at?" "Was it the murdered man's ghost, Doctor?" we all panted in one quick breath. "Ghost be d--d! No! But in that Mexican vaquero--that cursed Juan Ramirez!--I saw and shot at his murderer!" THE HOODLUM BAND OR THE BOY CHIEF, THE INFANT POLITICIAN, AND THE PIRATE PRODIGY BY JACK WHACKAWAY Author of "The Boy Slaver," "The Immature Incendiary," "The Precocious Pugilist," etc., etc. CHAPTER I