“Now, then,” said Baldy, when they reached the bottom of the path, “line up and I’ll give you your orders. You, Red Saunders, ride east with Sam, and Ed. Ricky, you and Big Foot ride to the west and keep patrolling. I’ll take the young maverick here with me. If any of you gets in trouble or wants assistance fire three shots. I reckon that’s all.” The men rode off into the night, and then Baldy and Jack were left alone. “Got a shootin’ iron with you, young feller?” inquired Baldy. “A what?” returned Jack. “Waal, if you ain’t the tenderfootedest of tenderfeets,” scoffed Baldy; “a shootin’ iron—a gun!” “Why, no, I didn’t think it necessary to bring one,” rejoined Jack. “I don’t like carrying firearms unless they are needful. Do you think that anything will happen in which firearms would be useful?” “Firearms is always useful along the Rio,” returned Baldy, “I dunno if the cap told you, but we’re here on special duty to–night.” “Dangerous duty?” asked Jack. “You can’t most gen’ally sometimes allers tell,” vouchsafed Baldy, examining the magazine of his rifle which he had taken from its saddle holster for the purpose. CHAPTER V. JACK’S CHANCE. “You mean that there is a chance of our being attacked?” Jack put the question in rather an anxious tone. But for some reason Baldy only grunted in reply. “I’m going back to camp to git you a gun,” he said; “you stay right here till I get back.” “Very well, Mr. Baldy,” rejoined the boy, in as conciliatory a tone as possible. “Don’t mister me. I ain’t got no handle to my name and don’t never expect to have,” grunted Baldy, as he swung his pony and rode off. As Jack listened to the retreating hoof beats he felt strangely lonely. It was very dark down in the cañon, and the steely blue stars seemed very far away. Only the rushing of the water of the river disturbed the boy’s thoughts while he awaited Baldy’s return. “He’s not very lively company,” he admitted to himself, “but it’s better than being all alone. Wish Ralph or Walt had been ordered to share my watch.” But the next moment he was scolding himself. “For shame, Jack Merrill,” he said, “here’s the first bit of duty you’ve been put to, and here you are complaining already. It’s got to stop right here and now, and—hello, what was that?” The boy broke off short, as through the darkness of the cañon he caught an odd sound from the river. “What can that sound be?” he said to himself. “It seems familiar, too. Where have I heard something like it before?” Then all of a sudden it dawned upon him what the odd noise was. It was the splash of oars. But what could a boat be doing on the river at that time of night, and in such a place? Jack was asking himself these questions when he became aware of some words being spoken at a short distance from him. He recognized the language instantly. The men who were conversing were talking in Spanish, of which tongue Jack had a fair working knowledge, as we know.