Part 17 (2/2)

Frank clutched his arm, gasping:

”Merciful goodness! look there--look at that man's face! Can the dead return to life?”

He pointed at the man on the brink of the ravine above them. The light of the moon fell fairly on the face of this man, which was plainly revealed to every one of the startled and thunderstruck party.

”Move lively, down there!” cried the man, with a warning gesture.

”There have been spies upon you, and Pacheco knows where you have stopped for the night.”

Bushnell dropped his rifle, clutching at the neck of his s.h.i.+rt, and gasping for breath.

”By ther livin' G.o.ds!” he shouted, ”it's my pard, Jack Burk, or it's his spook!”

”Id vas a sbook!” gurgled Hans Dunnerwust, quivering with fear. ”Id vos der sbook uf der man vot we seen deat as a toornail!”

In truth, the man on the brink of the ravine looked like Jack Burk, who had been declared dead in the adobe hut near Mendoza.

”It is a resemblance--it must be a resemblance!” muttered Frank.

Once more the man above uttered a warning:

”You were trailed by a spy,” he declared. ”The spy saw you camp here, and he has gone to bring Pacheco and the bandits. They will be here soon. If you escape, you must move without further delay.”

”It not only looks like my pard,” said Bushnell, hoa.r.s.ely, ”but it has ther voice of my pard! Ef Jack Burk is dead, thet sh.o.r.e is his spook!”

And then, as suddenly as he had appeared, the man above vanished from view.

”Gone!” gasped Professor Scotch, wiping the cold perspiration from his face. ”I never took stock in ghosts before, but now----”

”Remember his warning,” cut in Frank. ”We had better heed it.”

”Dot vos righd,” nodded Hans.

”Yes, thet's right,” agreed Bushnell. ”We'll git out of hyar in a howlin' hurry. Ef Jack Burk is dead, then thet wuz his spook come to warn his old pard.”

There was saddling and packing in hot haste, and the little party was soon moving along the ravine.

For at least thirty minutes they hastened onward, and then the Westerner found a place where the horses could climb the sloping wall of the ravine and get out of the gorge. It was no easy task to make the animals struggle to the top, but Bushnell succeeded in forcing them all up. When the party was out of the ravine every one breathed with greater freedom.

”There,” said Frank, ”I do not feel as if we might be caught like rats in a trap.”

Frank was the last to move from the ravine, and, just as he was about to do so, he seemed to catch a glimpse of something moving silently in the darkness.

”Hist!” came the warning from his lips. ”Come here, Bushnell--professor, Hans, stay with the horses. Be cautious, and come lively.”

He flung himself on his face in the shadow of a great bowlder, and peered down into the darkness below.

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