"I've read about them," said Rob; "they do all kinds of weird things with rattlesnakes, don't they?" "Well, no white man has ever seen them--or, if he has, never lived to tell about it," said Harry, "so of course nobody knows exactly what they do. But anyhow, when we camped last night we had eight mules, and when we woke this morning there were only six. Jose, there--hey, Jose, wake up!" He prodded the Mexican who still sat on the wagon seat, with the end of his long whip. "Well, as I was saying, Jose trailed them and found them tethered in a arroyo about a mile from camp." "The Indians took them?" asked Merritt. "Yes, Jose, who's as good a trailer as he is a sleeper, found unmistakable tracks of Moquis. I suppose they took the mules in the night and then got scared at something and hitched them in the arroyo, meaning to come back for them." "Whereabouts did the Injuns cut into you, Harry?" A new voice had broken into the conversation. That of Clark Jennings. He nursed above his right eye a rapidly swelling "goose egg," marking the spot at which he had collided with the roadway. At his elbow was the faithful Jess Randell. "Why, hello, Clark, you in town, too? Every one from the Santa Catapinas seems to be in to-day--you, too, Jess. Well, the Indians paid us their little call just this side of the Salt Licks,--why?" "Oh, jes' wanted to know. Me and Jess has got to ride home that way to-night, for it's better riding when it's cool; and I thought I'd like to know whar to expect the varmints." "Well, that's the best information I can give you," said Harry, "but what have you been doing to your eye?" "Oh, nothing," muttered Clark, turning away, while a loud guffaw went up. "What's all the joke,--what is it?" asked Harry. It was soon explained, and the young rancher burst into a laugh. "Say, Rob, you must mean to clean the country of bad men. Trimmed Clark Jennings! Ho, ho, ho!" "Has he much of a reputation?" inquired Rob innocently, but with a twinkle in his eye. "I should say so. He won't forgive you in a hurry. He's going to be your neighbor, too, for a while." "How's that?" "His father owns the next ranch to us. Jess Randell is Clark's cousin, an orphan, you know. He lives there, too. The two are great cronies, and think a lot of their reputation as tough citizens. The whole bunch have a bad name." As the team from the Harkness ranch was tired out by the long, hard journey across the hot desert, it was decided that the boys should spend the night at the Mesaville House, and start for the ranch the next morning while it was cool. This would bring them into the mountains by dusk. Over supper they laughed and talked merrily, recalling the last time they had met, which was in a wet, dripping fog off the Long Island coast. How differently were they now situated!