into his little camp.

"Seen anything of an Injun running away with a white girl?" asked Billy
without preliminaries.

The Mexican's jaw dropped.

"_Sacra Maria_!" he gasped. "Not I! Who is she?"

"Listen!" broke in Jack. "You be on the watch. An educated Indian has
stolen a young lady who was visiting my wife. I own the Newman ranch.
That Indian Cartwell it was, three days ago."

John DeWitt interrupted.

"If you can catch that Indian, if you can give us a clue to him, you
needn't herd sheep any more. Lord, man, speak up! Don't stand there
like a chump!"

"But, señors!" stammered the poor fellow to whom this sudden torrent of
conversation was as overwhelming as a cloudburst. "But I have not
seen--"

Billy Porter spoke again.

"Hold up, boys! We are scaring the poor devil to death. Friend
pastor," he said, "we'll have breakfast here with you, if you don't
object, and tell you our troubles."

The shepherd glowed with hospitality.