Bud rode into camp from the other direction, and he brought a bunch of horses, two of which I recognized as Dick's. The lumbermen set about getting breakfast, and Stockton helped me to what little I could eat and drink. Now that I was caught he did not appear at all mean or harsh. I did not shrink from him, and had the feeling that he meant well by me. The horses were saddled and bridled, and Dick and I, still tied, were bundled astride our mounts. The pack-ponies led the way, with Bill following; I came next, Greaser rode behind me, and Dick was between Bud and Stockton. So we traveled, and no time was wasted. I noticed that the men kept a sharp lookout both to the fore and the rear. We branched off the main trail and took a steeper one leading up the slope. We rode for hours. There were moments when I reeled in my saddle, but for the greater while I stood my pain and weariness well enough. Some time in the afternoon a shrill whistle ahead attracted my attention. I made out two horsemen waiting on the trail. “Huh! about time!” growled Bill. “Hyar's Buell an' Herky-Jerky.” As we approached I saw Buell, and the fellow with the queer name turned out to be no other than the absent man I had been wondering about. He had been dispatched to fetch the lumberman. Buell was superbly mounted on a sleek bay, and he looked very much the same jovial fellow I had met on the train. He grinned at the disfigured men. “Take it from me, you fellers wouldn't look any worse bunged up if you'd been jolted by the sawlogs in my mill.” “We can't stand here to crack jokes,” said Stockton, sharply. “Some ranger might see us. Now what?” “You ketched the kid in time. That's all I wanted. Take him an' Leslie up in one of the canyons an' keep them there till further orders. You needn't stay, Stockton, after you get them in a safe place. An' you can send up grub.” Then he turned to me. “You'll not be hurt if--” “Don't you speak to me!” I burst out. It was on my lips to tell him of the letter to Washington, but somehow I kept silent. “Leslie,” went on Buell, “I'll overlook your hittin' me an' let you go if you'll give me your word to keep mum about this.” Dick did not speak, but looked at the lumberman with a dark gleam in his eyes. “There's one thing, Buell,” said Stockton. “Jim Williams is wise. You've got to look out for him.” Buell's ruddy face blanched. Then, without another word, he waved his hand toward the slope, and, wheeling his horse, galloped down the trail. IX. TAKEN INTO THE MOUNTAINS We climbed to another level bench where we branched off the trail. The forest still kept its open, park-like character. Under the great pines the ground was bare and brown with a thick covering of pine-needles, but in the glades were green grass and blue flowers.