During the night some of the trainmen ascertained that he was a “peon,” consequently having no right to leave the territory. When the train started the next morning, at the suggestion of the men, he secreted himself in one of the covered wagons. Before noon, however, two horsemen were seen following us, coming on in a fast gallop. They were officers of the law, armed with pistols and a writ for the arrest of the boy. The trainmen pretended to be ignorant of his presence with the train, but the officers said they knew he was with the train, demanding of Captain Chiles that he stop the train so they might search for him. In order to avoid being subjected to the charge of resisting the officers, the captain ordered a halt. The officers soon discovered the boy concealed beneath some bedding, dragged him out and put him on one of their horses. The poor boy protested with all his might against being taken back, crying all the while in a distressing manner, arousing the feelings of the trainmen until they were about to declare war on the officers, but Captain Chiles said it would not do to resist the civil authorities. So the little fellow was carried back to his condition of slavery or peonage as it was called by the officers. [Illustration: THE OFFICERS DRAGGED HIM OUT.] At noon that day our camp was near the base of a mound of broken rock, perhaps a hundred feet high, rounded to a sharp pinnacle at its apex. The mound supported hardly a bit of vegetation on its sides, which were nearly inaccessible. The goats purchased by Reece had been driven along in the cavayard, apparently reconciled to their new mode of life and daily travel. That day, as the wagons were moving out of corral, Reece missed his goats. I joined him in a search for them, riding about over the plain, and we had about reached the conclusion that they had run away. Just then as the wagons were moving from the corral one of the teamsters shouted to Reece, “There are your goats!” pointing to the summit of the steep mound of rock. Sure enough, there were the three goats, standing in a row on the topmost rock, looking at us with the utmost satisfaction and composure. Nothing but a goat could either ascend or descend the declivity, so Reece and I remained until they thought proper to come down. This they did in the course of an hour, when we drove them on, overtaking the train as it went into camp at nightfall. XII. IN PERIL OF INDIANS. The return journey was for the most part uneventful, but with empty wagons we could travel more rapidly.