Indeed, it looked as though they were close upon the edge of serious trouble. That aroused old wizard of the Zunis was bearing down upon the little camp among the rocks like a pirate craft under a full spread of canvas. While his “get-up” was of such a character that he always impressed Billie as a “holy terror,” according to the boy’s way of expressing it, still right then and there he had such a black and forbidding look on his face that he seemed doubly ferocious. No wonder the old wizard was furious, when his most highly prized possession, the Sacred Belt, said to have come down direct to him from the Great Manitou of the Zunis, and looked upon with the highest veneration and awe by every member of the tribe, had mysteriously disappeared. He knew full well that no Zuni, young or old, could be induced to take one step inside the magic confines of the stone house which he used as his quarters; for they believed that instant death would follow such a daring move. Hence, it was quite patent that only a reckless paleface, who had no such dread of the necromancer’s power, must have entered, to carry away the precious possession. And if, as seemed probable, he had learned that one of the white boys had been seen prowling around in the vicinity of his den, and acting in a suspicious manner, what more likely than that he would turn out to be the guilty party? The group, native and white combined, bore down rapidly on the little camp. Adrian braced himself to handle the situation properly. He did not wish to do the slightest thing to incur the enmity of the Zuni people, for the boys were really their guests. At the same time he did not mean to be driven to the wall, and not put out a hand to defend himself and chum. It was naturally toward the make-believe showman and his ally that the anger of the Broncho Rider Boy was turned. Only for this desire on the part of Braddon to have them chased out of the Zuni country, so that he could work his evil scheme, and profit thereby, at the expense of the poor natives, there would have been no trouble whatever. And so Adrian set his teeth together, inwardly resolving that if circumstances did compel him to make use of the weapon he was gripping in his steady hands, it would be turned upon the showman the first thing. Perhaps Mark Braddon realized something to this effect. That would account for his gradually falling back as he ran, allowing the others to outstrip him in the race. Adrian believed him to be as cunning as he was bold, and that was saying a good deal. But now the medicine man and the three Zuni braves who accompanied him were close to the tent, and still coming under “full steam,” as Billie muttered to himself, while crouching there, nervously handling his Marlin, as he waited the rush of events. Adrian threw up his gun. At the same time he made an imperious gesture with his hand that could not be misunderstood.