Lem and Jeff had picked up a few Mexican words, but, of course, Jack neither understood nor could speak any of the language. He lost no time in entering the village, trusting to make someone understand what he wanted; but he had not proceeded a couple of hundred yards up the main street of the place when he found himself surrounded by a crowd of Mexican boys, all shouting at him in a tongue he did not know. He tried at first to show them he was hungry, by pointing to his mouth, but they only jeered and laughed, instead of helping him. He got out of patience at last, and endeavoured to make his way through the noisy band towards the centre of the village; but the boys pushed him back each time, evidently thinking it great sport to tease an unprotected little lad. Jack appealed in English to two Mexican men who were lounging near, but they seemed to enjoy watching the group of cruel boys tormenting him. Jack was no coward, although he was so young, and after receiving a hard push from a bigger boy than himself, he lost his temper, and hit his opponent a good blow between the eyes. This was the signal for a general outburst. The Mexicans are a fierce, passionate race, and the boys retaliated on poor Jack by all setting on him at once. Jack fought hard, and dealt out many a telling blow; but they were too many and strong for him, and at last he found himself being hustled out of the village where he had entered it, while his tormentors formed a long line to prevent his coming in again. Bleeding and bruised, Jack felt too worn out and faint from hunger and the fight to attempt another tussle with the enemy, so, like a wise boy, he deemed 'discretion the better part of valour,' and skirting the village, he recommenced his weary trudge along the road leading towards the mountains. [Illustration: "JACK FOUGHT HARD, BUT THEY WERE TOO MANY FOR HIM."] The range loomed up at no great distance in front of him, and the peaks towered up so high, they seemed to pierce the bright blue sky. But as the afternoon lengthened, Jack noticed that the sky was assuming a very threatening aspect. Big clouds came rolling up over the mountains, making them look almost black in the shadow. Jack went on bravely, hoping to reach some place of shelter before the storm broke, but it was getting rapidly darker, and his heart began to sink at the prospect ahead. Blacker and blacker it grew around him. Bright flashes of lightning shot from the murky clouds, followed by loud, crashing thunder, which shook the ground, and echoed and re-echoed through the rocky cañons. In a short time Jack was in the midst of a bad specimen of a Rocky Mountain thunderstorm, and no shelter near him. The poor lad was terrified, and crouched near the ground, while the lightning played about him and the thunder roared overhead.