"Pierre said, that if any of us heard the others talking of escape, and didn't tell him of it, he would pitch us over that precipice," muttered Arthur. "He looked straight at me when he said it; so I shall take him at his word, and put him on his guard against these fellows. I'll not go back on them--O, no! Johnny Harris didn't call me a coward, did he? And that little spindle-shanked Yankee, and his cousin, didn't insult me, by sending me my hat and gun, and the skin of that wolf, and by telling every body in the settlement that I was frightened out of my senses, without seeing any thing to be frightened at, did they? I'd like to catch that Archie Winters by himself. He's little, and I am sure that I could whip him. I'll pay them all for what they have done to me, and before I get through with them, they will learn, that it is always best to treat a gentleman with respect." As Arthur said this, he looked contemptuously at his slumbering companions, and then turned his back to them, and went to sleep. CHAPTER XV. MORE TREACHERY. When Frank awoke, it was nearly dark. The glade was lighted up by a fire, that one of the Rancheros had kindled, and beside which he stood, superintending the cooking of the supper. Archie and Johnny were still sleeping soundly, but Arthur Vane's blanket was empty, and that young gentleman was nowhere to be seen. Frank raised himself to a sitting posture, rubbed his eyes, and yawned; and then, seeing that the cook was rummaging in the pack-saddle after more luxuries, and judging by that that supper was nearly ready, he shook his companions, and arose to his feet. He went to the spring, and was preparing to wash his hands and face in the little brook that ran across the glade, when his attention was attracted by the sound of voices close by. He found that they came from behind the bowlder; and, after listening a moment, he recognized the voices as those of Pierre Costello, and Arthur Vane. At first, Frank thought nothing of this circumstance. He bent over the brook, and plunged his hands into the water, when the thought occurred to him that this was a strange proceeding on the part of Arthur Vane. If the latter had any thing to say to the chief, why did he not talk to him in the camp? Frank's suspicions were aroused. He stood, for a moment, undecided how to act, and then, dropping on his hands and knees, he crept cautiously around the end of the bowlder, and presently came in sight of Pierre and his companion. They were sitting on the ground, facing each other--the chief calmly smoking a cigarette, while Arthur was amusing himself by cutting the grass around him with the Ranchero's bowie-knife. "This is very odd," thought Frank. "Arthur acts more like a confidential friend than a prisoner." Our hero drew back, and listened to the conversation that followed, during which he gained some insight into the character of his new acquaintance.