"I wondered," Frank broke in, "when I noticed that the big, ugly-looking puncher called Zeke was riding off bare-headed. Still, I've seen Lige Smith, yes, and Hoptoad Atkins, go off on the range with bare heads, and the sun scorching hot. But then they both have thick hair, while Zeke--well, if he wasn't as close to being bald-headed as any cowboy could be, I'm mistaken." "I'd say it was a bum go he forgot his hat," ventured Paul. "Perhaps he didn't!" Lanky told him. "But here's his old hat, and Frank just said the man rode off bare-headed! What can you mean by saying that, Lanky?" "To get you guessing, Paul," chirped the satisfied Lanky. "What I had in mind was that maybe Zeke left his lid here on purpose." "Now you're balling me all up again!" complained Paul. "Didn't you hear me say the man kept looking around as he rode off with his pals, just as if he had half a notion to turn and come back? Well, I reckon Zeke's a cute one, and has set up the pins in his alley so he can knock 'em down with his first roller and make a clean sweep!" "Do you mean," asked Paul, "that he actually means to come galloping back here for some reason or other and has left his hat behind so's to make some sort of excuse for leaving his mates?" "Listen!" As Lanky hissed that emphatic word the other boys strained their ears to catch any sound. Clearly on the gentle breeze that chanced to be blowing came the unmistakable pounding of a pony's hoofs on the rocks! CHAPTER XVIII THE UNSEEN WATCHERS There was a concerted rush to the window situated on that side of the building toward which the oncoming rider seemed to be heading. "Careful!" warned Frank hastily. "He may be looking ahead and see us!" What he said caused both the others to drop down to the floor and crawl forward until they could look out. This was easily done, for the reason that not a single pane of glass remained in any sash. "I see him just dropping down into that little hollow!" snapped the keen-eyed Lanky almost instantly. "Was it Zeke?" asked Paul, in palpitating tones. "Sure was," came the reply. "Leastways, I glimpsed a shiny bald head, and as Frank observed he owned to such." "Then we'd better be getting back to our hiding place in that clump of rocks, hadn't we?" Paul continued. "Can't be done! He's coming from that quarter, you notice, and the chances are we'd be seen," Lanky informed him. "The door, then! Could we risk that?" demanded the other. Frank shook his head in the negative. "Before we could get under shelter he'd be up out of that hollow and have a square open stretch ahead. We've just got to stick to the rookery here, that's all." "Hide, you mean, Frank?" "Yes, Paul," came the ready answer, as Frank looked hurriedly around, up and down, and then went on to say: "There may be a cellar under the tumble-down hotel, but so far we haven't seen anything of it." "What's wrong with our skipping up-stairs and lying low?" Lanky wanted to know.