Billie started in at once to gather some wood, so as to make a fire. When there was anything in the line of cooking going on, he could show an astonishing amount of spryness for a fellow so stout. “You never saw anything like this before, I reckon, Donald?” Adrian asked, as the two of them busied themselves getting things ready, so that when Billie had his blaze started they could put the coffee and frying-pan on, and thus begin dinner. “No, and I’ve always wanted to have a chance to watch how they did these queer stunts,” replied the other; “but between us, Ad, I’ve pretty nearly got my fill of Zuni practices.” “Same here, Donald,” replied his chum, with a shrug of his shoulders that spoke even more plainly than his words, “I felt a cold chill run all over me when I saw those boys hung up there, with their whole weight supported by those skewers run through their shoulder muscles. Ugh! made me think of a beef that was put in the ice-house to hang, till it got tender. But they never whimpered once. Talk to me about your grit, did you ever see any equal to that?” “I think any one of those brave chaps would sooner have died outright than let his folks and friends hear a groan from his lips. And how long do you suppose they’ll let those boys hang there, Adrian; why, perhaps until sheer tomorrow morning, unless by good luck one of them chances to twist and squirm around, until he actually breaks loose, when he can crawl to his father’s hole in the rock, and lie down on a blanket. But under no circumstances must one of them be taken down until a certain number of hours have passed.” “Well, I’m glad I ain’t a Zuni!” Billie was heard to say about that time; “but what’s that fastened to the flap of the tent just behind you, Donald? I declare if it don’t look like a dirty piece of paper.” Donald turned quickly, and in another instant had the object which Billie’s sharp eyes had detected, in his hand. “It is a piece of paper, and here’s some writing on the same!” he exclaimed. “Wow! another letter of warning, mebbe, just like that was at the poisoned spring!” cried Billie, crowding close to the shoulder of Donald, as the other read out what he found written there, in a rough way, but evidently meant in sincerity: “Yu want to watch out fur that showman Hes aplannin to git yu all into a bad hole sos yull be kicked outen thee plac Hes ben an fixed the sam with a pair of his crones to steal the ole fraud medcin mans belt that he valles moren his lif an hid same in yur tent Keep yur eyes peeld an ketch the pizen snake at his game No mor at presnt but look out yu dont git nabbed A Frend” No sooner had Donald finished reading this scrawl than Billie broke out with: “Looky, will you, boys, just the same kind of crooked writing and bad spelling there was in that other warning letter. Yes, sir, it’s from that same unknown friend that keeps watch over us, and never shows himself. Don’t it beat all who he can be?” CHAPTER XXIII.