"Reckon so," hailed back Pete dryly, "that's what my ma said. Who air you, anyhow?" "I am Big Buck Bradley, manager, owner and sole proprietor of Buck Bradley's Unparalleled Monst-er-ous and Unsurpassed Wild West Show and Congress of Cowboys," came back the answer. "Who are you?" "Well, I reckon jes' at present we're in danger of being made a Wild West Show of, ourselves," drawled Pete. "But are you really Buck Bradley himself?" "I was, at dinner-time," was the response. "Hoorah!" yelled Pete. "It ain't possible, is it, Buck, thet you've forgot Mister Peter de Peyster?" "What, Coyote Pete?" "That's me!" "Waal, you thundering old coyote, what air you doin' here?" "Gittin' chased by a bunch of the toughest insurrectos you ever clapped eyes on, and it's up ter you ter help us out," responded Pete. He looked back, and motioned to the others, who had listened in astonishment to this dialogue. "Come on, boys, and git interduced; there ain't much time fer ettiquette." "Yee-ow-w-w-w-w!" came a yell behind them. "What's that?" exclaimed Buck, who, as the boys could now see, was a big, red-faced chap, clad in a linen auto-duster, combined with which his sombrero, with its beaded band, looked odd. "Why, that's an invitation ter us ter stop," rejoined Pete. Rapidly he explained the case, and Buck began to roar and bellow angrily, as was his wont. "Waal, what d'yer think uv that? The derned greasers! And I was on my way ter give 'em some free tickets. We show down in the village to-night. Help you out? Surest thing you know. Turn them broncs loose, and you and yer friends pile in. Tell me ther rest as we go along." The party of adventurers, as may be imagined, lost no time in accepting the Wild West Show man's hearty invitation, the professor being helped into the tonneau by Coyote Pete, who lifted the bony scientist as if he were nothing but a featherweight. "Back her up, and turn around, bo," Buck ordered his chauffeur. "I'm out in my guess if we've got much time to lose." Rapidly the car was turned, and was soon speeding in the direction they wished to go. The stolen insurrecto horses galloped off into the hills, snorting with terror, as the car began to move. "Say, Pete, what-cher bin doin'?" began Buck, as the vehicle gathered way, "shootin' up ther town?" "No, siree! I'm a law-abidin' citizen now," came from Pete, "and actin' as chaperony to this yer party." "You seem ter hev chaperoned them inter a heap of trouble," observed Buck dryly, as the car gathered way. "'Tain't all my fault. Listen," rejoined Pete, and straightaway launched into a detailed account of their adventures. "Waal," observed Buck, at the conclusion, "you sure are the number one chop feller fer gettin' inter trouble, but you bet yer life I ain't a-goin' ter fergit ther time yer stood up with me and held off a bunch of crazy cattle-thieves, down on the Rio Grande. So, gents, give yer orders, and Buck Bradley 'ull carry 'em out."