It might have
been a falling tree, it might have been an animal. At any rate it put
the fellow instantly on his guard. Lowering his rifle he began skulking
in the direction of the racket.
By this time Ned was walking ruefully down the galley looking for a
convenient trail up the side to the ridge. Not that he could not have
made the ascent anywhere, but that he did not wish to raise any more
disturbance than be already had done. At last, finding what seemed
to him to be a path, Ned began climbing the side of the galley. Had
the boy first taken a survey of the ground at the top of the rise, he
might possibly have made a discovery, and then again he might not.
Crouched behind a rock was a man. The fellow was fingering his
rifle suggestively. Twice he raised it to a level with his eyes and
drew a bead on the advancing form of Ned Rector, and as many times
lowered it.
The watcher observed that Ned carried no rifle, only a revolver
slapping against his thigh in its holster as the boy stumbled on up
the mountain side. The mountaineer evidently changed his mind about
shooting, for he changed ends with the gun and sat waiting. A few
moments later Ned stepped up beside the rock where he stood listening
and looking about him. The Pony Rider Boy looked everywhere except
in the right place.
Suddenly there was a crackling of twigs behind him. Ned turned just
in time to see the figure of a man leaping upon him.
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