"What was that?"
"Only one of the boys in the seat behind us, snoring."
"Sure they're asleep?"
"Yes, but what if they're not? They are only kids. Theywouldn't understand."
"Don't you be too sure about that. I've heard about thosekids. Heard about 'em over in Nevada. There's four of them. Theycall themselves the Pony Rider Boys; and they're no tenderfeet,if all I hear is true. They have done some pretty livelystunts."
"Yes, that's all right, Bob, but we ain't going to begin bygetting cold feet over a bunch of kids out for a holiday."
"Where they going?"
"Don't know. Presume they'll be taking a trip over the plainsor heading for the mountains. They've got a stock car up aheadjammed full of stock and equipment."
"Scarecrows?"
"No. Good stock. Some of the slickest ponies you ever set eyeson. There's one roan there that I wouldn't mind owning. Maybe wecan make a trade," and the speaker chuckled softly tohimself.
A snore louder than those that had preceded it, caused the twomen to laugh heartily.
The snore had come from Stacy Brown. Both he and Tad Butlerwere resting from their long journey on the Atlantic and Pacifictrain. Further to the rear of the car, their companions, NedRector and Walter Perkins, also were curled up in a double seat,with Professor Zepplin sitting very straight as if sleep werefurthest from his thoughts. They were nearing their destinationnow, and within the hour would be unloading their stock andequipment at Bluewater.
"They're asleep all right," grinned one of the two men whooccupied the seat just ahead of Stacy and Tad. "Is old manMarquand going to meet us at the station?"
"Oh, no. That wouldn't be a good thing. Might attract too muchattention. Told him not to. We'll get a couple of ponies atBluewater and ride across the mountains. But we've got to beslick. The old man is no fool. He'll hang on to the location ofthe treasure till the last old cat's gone to sleep for good."
"Any idea where the place is?"
"No. Except that it's somewhere south of the Zuni range."
A solitary eye in the seat behind, opened cautiously. The eyebelonged to Stacy Brown. The last snore had awakened him, and hehad lain with closed eyes listening to the conversation of thetwo men.
He gave Tad a gentle nudge, which was returned with a softpressure on Stacy's right arm as a warning that he was to remainquiet.
"Do you know what the treasure consists of?"
"Maybe a mine, but as near as I could draw from Marquand'stalk it is jewels and Spanish money which one of the oldFranciscan monks had buried. The Pueblos knew where it was, butthey sealed the place up after the Pueblo revolution in 1680, andit's been corked tight ever since."
"How'd Marquand get wise to it?"
"From an old Pueblo Chief whose life he saved a few monthsago. The old chief died a little while afterwards, but before hewent, he told Marquand about the treasure."
"Didn't suppose a redskin had so much gratitude under histough skin. Does the old man know where the place is?"
"No, not exactly. That's where we come in," grinned thespeaker. "We are going to help him find it."
"And then?"
"Oh, well. There's lots of ways to get rid of him."
"You mean?"
"He might tumble off into a canyon, or something of the sort,in the night time. Here's the place."
The train was rounding a bend into the little town ofBluewater.
"Sit still," whispered Tad. "I want to get a look at thosefellows so I'll know them next tim