cartridge belt and a holster which he had strapped under his arm. Jim kicked the stuff into the water, while Bob attended to Mills.

“Now, take off your shirts then we’ll be sure you haven’t got anything hidden or try anything queer. I’m going to tie you, but not so that you are as helpless as we were.” While Jim stood guard, he secured the pair with the one lariat, then he took the end of the rope. “Just a little funny business and this will pull up tight, so watch yourself—now goose-step.”

The two men faced about and started, Caldwell holding one end of their rope. He had the gun in his other hand, while Jim walked beside him, his weapon pointed at the bare backs. It was difficult making their way along the edge of the stream, but they finally managed it, then saw that the route lead forward in a comparatively smooth trail. Two hours they proceeded, winding in and out, twisting and turning as if the designers of the passage had sought to build a labyrinth for some ancient lover’s lane. Then the way grew suddenly quite rugged and a bit later the boys and their captured captors discovered that they were tramping over a high stone bridge which seemed to be a natural formation of the rocks. All of the time the vines and trees formed the solid arch above their heads, but occasionally sections were considerably lighter than others.

“Say, where do you think you are going to take us?” Mills growled.

“Out,” Bob answered shortly.

“Yeh, when we get out, then what?”

“To the nearest jail, where you belong,” Jim told him.

“Well, I’m telling you now, I’m not going to no jail,” Mills cried.

“Aw shut up,” Lang ordered.

“Shut up yourself,” Mills retorted. “I aint done nothing to go to jail for—”

“No, well you’ve done as much as I have—”

“You’re a liar.” Mills fist shot out and he struck his companion a resounding crack on the side of the face.

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