"Look! Look at those fellows!" cried Bow Backus. "They just got out of the fire by a close shave--same as we did." They all looked to where he pointed. There, crossing the stream higher up, and seemingly at a place which the fire had only narrowly missed, were several horsemen. Their steeds appeared exhausted, as though they had had a hard race to escape. "What outfit is that, fellows?" asked Baldy Johnson. "I don't know of any punchers attached to a ranch that's within this here fire range." "There isn't any," declared Necktie Harry. "But where did those cowboys come from?" persisted Baldy. "They're not cowboys!" declared Necktie Harry, looking to see if his scarf had suffered any from the smoke and cinders. "Did you ever see real cow punchers ride the way they do--like sacks of meal. They're fakes, that's what they are!" For an instant Baldy stared at the speaker, and then cried: "That's it! I couldn't understand it before, but I do now. It's all clear!" "What is?" asked Mr. Pertell, who was still, rather wrought up by the danger into which he had thrown his players. "Why, about this blaze. I couldn't for the life of me understand how it was it could burn two ways at once. But now I do." "You mean those fellows set another fire?" asked Bow Backus. "That's my plain identical meanin'," declared Baldy. "Them scoundrels started another fire after we did ours." "Oh, how terrible!" exclaimed Ruth. "Wait; hold on, Miss! I'm not goin' so far as to accuse 'em of doin' it purposely," the cowboy went on, earnestly. "They may not have meant it. The grass is pretty dry just now, and a little fire would burn a long way. It's jest possible they may have made a blaze to bile their coffee, and the wind carried sparks into a bunch of grass. But I have my suspicions." "Why, who could they be, to do such a dastardly thing as that?" demanded Mr. DeVere. "That's what I want to know," put in Mr. Pertell. Baldy turned sharply to the manager. "Who's been followin' on your trail ever since you started out to make your big drama 'East and West'?" he asked. "Who--who!" repeated Mr. Pertell. "Why--why those sneaks from the International Picture Company--that's who." "That's them," declared Baldy, laconically, as he pointed to the retreating horsemen. "That's them, and they're the fellows who sot this second fire that so nearly wrecked us." "Is it possible!" ejaculated Mr. DeVere. "I'm sure of it," declared Baldy. "I ain't got no real proof; but I've seen a good many fires in my day, and they don't start all by their ownselves--not two of 'em, anyhow. You can bank on them bein' your enemies, if you'll excuse my slang," he said in firm tones. "Do you really mean it?" asked Mr. Pertell, in amazement. "I sure do, friend. I'm not sayin' they started it to hurt any of you; but they wanted to spoil your picture, I'm sure of it." There was a moment of silence, and then Bow Backus cried out in loud tones: