“Over yonder, Massel Baldy. Him litee by chuck wagon.” Baldy did not wait to make a reply. He steered his plunging pony skillfully among the sleeping Rangers till he reached a bundled–up heap of blankets which he knew must contain Captain Atkinson. Baldy threw himself from his horse in an instant, at the same time slipping the reins over his pony’s head, according to the plainsman’s custom. Reaching down, he shook the captain vigorously. “Hello! hello, there, what’s up?” came a muffled rejoinder from amidst the blankets. But the next instant Captain Atkinson, broad awake, was sitting up. “Oh, you, Baldy? Well, what’s the trouble?” “Dunno jes’ erzackly, boss,” stammered out Baldy, “but it’s about that Tenderfoot kid that you gave me ter mind.” Baldy was plainly embarrassed. He shoved back his sombrero and scratched his head vigorously. At the same time he jingled his spurs as he shifted his feet nervously. Captain Atkinson’s tone was sharp when he next spoke. “You mean Jack Merrill? I’d have you understand, Baldy, that he is no Tenderfoot. He’s only a boy, but he’s been through as much as most men of twice his years. But what about him?” If the question was sharp and to the point, as was Captain Atkinson’s wont, so was Baldy’s answer. Rangers are not men who are in the habit of wasting words. “He’s went.” “What?” “I mean what I say, boss. The kid’s vamoosed, gone, skidooed.” “No nonsense, Baldy. Explain yourself.” “There ain’t much to explain, boss.” “If Jack Merrill has gone, I should say that there was a good deal to explain on your part.” Baldy shifted uneasily. “It warn’t no fault of mine, boss,” he protested. “I’ll be the judge of that. What’s your story?” “Just this. The kid went on watch with me. As you told me, I kept him close alongside. He didn’t hev no shootin’ iron, so I rode back to camp to git one. When I got back to the Rio he was gone.” “Gone?” “That’s what.” “Have you looked for him?” “Beat the brush frum San Antone to breakfus’, but ther ain’t no sign uv hair nor hide uv him.” “You saw the other men?” “Sure!” “Did they know nothing?” “Not a thing. But the kid couldn’t hev passed in either direction without goin’ up in an air ship.” “None of your jokes. This is serious. Answer my questions. You left him where?” “Not far from the foot of the trail to the waterin’ place.” “You told him to stay there?” “Sure thing. You see I lef’ him ter git him a shootin’ iron. I didn’t think it was right that he shouldn’t be heeled. The greasers————” “All right, never mind that part of it. Well, you got the gun?” “Yes; and when I took it back fer him ther kid had gone.” “How long did all this take?” “Waal, I’ve bin huntin’ fer ther dern little pinto ever since. But I should say that I rode to camp and back in about half an hour. You see, I hurried.” “Humph! You found no sign of trouble when you got back?” “Nary a bit. All wuz quiet as a Chink’s funeral in Tombstone.”