“Now’s a good time to ooze out of this, boys,” whispered Big John. “If that was the Major, he’s sure a shark on Indian ceremonials!” CHAPTER XII THE LAST STAND OF THE BLACK PANTHER It was dark and the Navaho had all gone when Major Hinchman appeared again in camp. “Went off fine, boys! The Black Panther’s not coming any more--that’ll be up to us, right pronto, for if he visits the Navaho sheep corrals a single time again we lose all we have gained. Niltci--I told them _I_ was Niltci, now a Ganhi from the spirit world--Niltci will come back to earth again, soon, in that very cave on White Mesa, and I’ll make a great medicine man out of him without his knowing any too much about it himself! The dye business is already fixed up; Niltci can help me drive that home, too, after I’ve had a talk with him, or the Colonel can make a good missionary out of him, as you say he has a lot of influence over the boy, Sid. The thing for us to do now is to ride for Canyon Cheyo and camp somewhere on the brook to-night, and then run the panther with the dogs early to-morrow morning. I can only hope and pray that he don’t go sheep stealing to-night!” Around the camp fire that night they went over their plans. Sid and Scotty were to start for Lost Canyon at dawn, while Big John and the Major would ride with the dogs out to the eastern desert and pick up the Black Panther’s trail somewhere back in the timber west of the Navaho settlement. If they treed him, they would shoot and bury him, then and there; if he made for his lair in Lost Canyon it would be up to the boys. “An’ believe me, I’ll be right behint his tail, Major!” declared Big John. “Them pesky boys is aimin’ to kill me of worry, an’ they’ll git me yet, with their wild an’ woolly doin’s! I’m fixin’ to be right thar when that ole comatabody goes a-sky-hootin’ all over the roof of that pueblo, as he’s bound to do as soon as they begins lettin’ lead inter him.” It was in the dark before dawn that Sid roused out, to awake Scotty and saddle Pinto. “To-day’s the day, old-timer!” he grinned delightedly, as his knuckles bored into Scotty’s ribs. “Up an’ at ’em, fellah!” Silently they oiled and cleaned the rifles of desert sand, gulped down some coffee, and saddled their ponies. A rasp of chains where Ruler had arisen from his bed of pinyon straw told that he was awake and eager to be off. Sid went over to him. “Go git ’em, old snoozer!” he whispered affectionately, fondling the big hound’s long silky ears. “We’re sure depending on you!” Then with a pat for Pepper and Bourbon, he walked over to Pinto to grip the bony ridge of his neck, jammed a foot into his stirrup, and was off, with Scotty galloping hard after him.