He was astonished because, he had judged, almost everybody in the camp had preceded him while he had been busy inspecting the different arrangements. He faced round abruptly in his saddle and saw that the rider behind him was Shorty. It must have been at almost the same moment that, for some unknown reason, Shorty’s horse began to plunge and kick. Then it dashed forward, bearing down directly on Jack. “Look out!” shouted Jack, “there’s only room for one on the trail. You’ll knock me off!” “I can’t pull him in! I can’t pull him in!” yelled Shorty, making what appeared to be frantic efforts to pull in his pony. At the same time he kept the cayuse to the inside of the trail. Jack saw that unless he did something, and quickly, too, his pony was likely to become unmanageable and plunge off the narrow path. But there was small choice of remedies. Already Shorty’s horse, which was coming as if maddened by something, was dashing down on him. Jack resolved to take a desperate chance. The others had by this time almost reached the bottom of the trail. As fast as he dared he compelled his pony to gallop down the steep incline. It was a dangerous thing to do, for the trail was too narrow to afford any foothold at more than a slow and careful walk. Behind him, yelling like one possessed, came Shorty. Jack urged his mount faster. “Goodness! I hope we get to the bottom safely!” he gasped out. The words had hardly left his lips when he felt his pony’s hoofs slip from under him. The next instant, amid a horrified shout from the men below, Jack and the pony went rolling and plunging off the trail down toward the river. The last sound Jack heard was Shorty’s loud: “Yip! yip! Ye–o–o–ow!” CHAPTER IV. WITH THE RANGERS. From below, where Jack’s companions had witnessed his fall with horrified eyes, it appeared almost impossible that he could escape without serious injury. But as his pony struck the ground at the foot of the cliff, amidst a regular landslide of twigs, rocks and earth, Jack succeeded in extricating himself from under the animal, and rolling a few yards he scrambled to his feet, unhurt except for a few slight cuts and bruises. Ralph and Walt Phelps left their ponies and came running up to where Jack stood brushing the dirt from his garments. “Hurt, Jack?” cried Ralph. “No; never touched me,” laughed the boy; “and look at that cayuse of mine, I guess he isn’t injured, either.” As Jack spoke he nodded his head in the direction of his pony, which had risen and was now galloping off to join its companions at the watering place. “How did it happen?” demanded Walt. “We saw you coming down the trail quietly enough one moment, and at the next look, behold, you were riding like Tam o’ Shanter.” Jack looked about him before replying. But he and his companions were alone, for the Rangers were too busy watering their mounts to bother with the boys once it had been seen that Jack was not hurt.