"
"I believe you are right," said Ted. "Let's fire a few shots to attract
their attention, and then ride to them."
The shots were fired, and presently they heard several faint reports,
and knew that they had been heard and answered.
In a few minutes they had ridden to where the party was standing on the
ridge of a rolling hill.
They were the broncho boys under the leadership of Ben Tremont. They had
all come together on a broad trail that pointed toward the foothills in
the north, and, as they rode, had picked up one pair of scouts after
another.
"Where are Bud and Stella?" asked Ted, running his eye over the party.
"Haven't seen anything of them," said Ben, "although we have been
keeping a lookout for them. They rode farther to the west, and probably
will pick us up later. I think this trail leads into the hills, and that
we will find the Indians in camp not far away."
This was Ted's belief also, and, taking the leadership, he ordered an
advance.
"Halt!" Ted Strong had stopped his pony, and with his hand shading his
eyes, was looking steadily to the front.
"What is it?" asked Ben, riding to his side.
"Smoke over the top of that hill right in front of us."
Ted did not take his eyes from the spot.
"By Jove!" he exclaimed. "The bunch of Indians who chased me have taken
a short cut and beaten us in.
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