Walter stepped back of the machine, where he could not be seen, and watched the little man approach. He was curious to see if Mr. Jones would attempt to speak to the engineer after the warning he had given him.

Just before he reached the machine the little man turned off the road and rode along the other side of the ditch. When opposite the machine, he reined in his pony and hailed the engineer. Bratton stopped the machine for a second. "Go on," he shouted. "No strangers are allowed near this machine."

"I just want to talk to you for a minute," said the little man.

"Nothing doing," answered Bratton shortly. "I don't talk with strangers when I am on duty. Go on. Get out of the way." But the little man still persisted. Bratton swung the machine around, and winked at Walter, as the bucket gathered up its huge load of mud. Like lightning the huge boom swung around, and the avalanche of mud descended at the pony's feet. The frightened animal leaped forward, almost unseating its rider. Walter hurried forward to meet the little man, as he crossed the ditch to the graded road. "I thought I told you the other day that we allowed no one to bother our engineers, Mr. Jones," he said severely.

"I beg your pardon. I had forgotten that," said the little man mildly. "Really, that engineer acted very rude. I merely wanted to ask him a simple little question."

"You can address your questions to me or one of my chums, hereafter," said Walter stiffly.

"I merely wanted to ask if he had chanced to see anything of my glasses. I dropped them along the road somewhere, and really I am quite helpless without them."

"I'll inquire at the camp if anything has been seen of them," said the lad briefly.

"I have ridden a long ways this morning," continued Mr. Jones, "and I am very hungry. I wonder if I could get a bite to eat at your camp."

Walter hesitated. He did not like to have the man stop at camp, but he disliked to refuse such a simple request, when, after all, the man might be harmless and well-meaning.

"You may stay and have breakfast with us, if you wish," he said. "I guess it is ready now." He walked along silently by the pony's side while the little man chattered volubly.

"Why, you have had a fire," the little man said, as he surveyed the flame-swept prairie and smoke-blackened tents. "How lucky it didn't get your camp. I suppose that would have delayed you a lot in your work?"

"Oh, I don't know about that," said Walter indifferently. "I fancy it would not have taken long to have got other tents and supplies."

The Spaniards and engineers were finishing their breakfast when the two entered the tent, but Charley and the Captain were not in sight. They came in and took their places at the table, however, while the little man and Walter were still eating.

"This is Mr. Jones," said Walter. "He lost a pair of glasses on the road, and wishes to know if we have seen anything of them."

"Please describe them to me, Mr. Jones," requested Charley, eyeing the little man closely.

"They were just ordinary nose-glasses, with gold rims. They were in a hard black leather case," said the little man promptly.

"I guess these are the ones," said Charley, producing the black leather case. "I found them."

"Where?" asked the little man, as he fitted the glasses on his nose.

"Right where the fire was started that nearly burnt us out last night," said Charley promptly. "The Captain and I just came from there. I think it's up to you, Mr. Jones, to explain how they got there."

"Dear me," said the little man quickly. "How queer! I suppose some Indian must have picked them up on the road and dropped them again when he started that fire. You know they are always burning off the prairie for their cattle. Quite a queer incident, isn't it?"

"It is," agreed Charley dryly. "Perhaps you can explain——" But the lad did not finish his sentence, for from the road came the loud tooting of a horn, and all rushed for the tent opening, Walter exclaiming, "It's the sheriff." The sheriff it proved to be, and with him were a dozen active-looking men, each carrying a rifle.

"I've come for those convicts," the sheriff announced. "Can one of you show me where they are camped?"

"I can," Walter volunteered. "We will have to go on foot, but I guess we will catch them all right. They were up about all night, so they ought to sleep late this morning." He glanced around at Mr. Jones, to see how that person was taking the sheriff's arrival, but the little man was placidly picking his teeth with a bone toothpick and smiling pleasantly at the newcomer.

"All right, lead us to them," said the sheriff. "We want to get them back in the stockade before night, if we can."

Charley watched them out of sight, and then turned to the little man. "I wish you would tell me, Mr. Jones, what your game is," he said earnestly, "and why you are trying to stop this road-building."

The little man looked at him with surprise on his face. "I really don't understand you," he protested mildly. "I must say this is a most extraordinary camp. Everyone seems so suspicious and rude. I have never encountered such treatment before."

"All right, Mr. Jones," said Charley, wearily. "Let's forget it. I must, however, request you to keep away from this camp hereafter."

"It is not likely I will come around here again, after the treatment I have received," said the little man stiffly, as he mounted his pony. "Good-day, sir," and he rode off, leaving the lad with the unpleasant feeling that he had perhaps wounded the feelings of an entirely innocent person. Slowly the lad turned away, and, going to his tent, flung himself face downward on his cot. In truth his nerves were strained almost to the breaking point by the tension and worry he had borne since the fateful day they had bought the machine. He felt himself responsible for the fortunes and even the lives of his friends and the men working for him, and the burden was a heavy one. But nature soon asserted itself, and the worried lad fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, from which he did not awaken until Chris aroused him for dinner. He found Walter at the table waiting for him. The sheriff's auto was gone.

"Yes, we got the convicts, all right," Walter said, in answer to his questions. "They were sound asleep, just as I expected, and the sheriff's men had the handcuffs on them before they knew what was going on. The sheriff permitted me to question them, but I could not get a word out of them. They just shut up like clams. There is no doubt, though, that it was two of them that assaulted McCarty. Their faces and hands were badly scalded. While they were laying for a chance to get at him, Jones and the other two started that fire, I guess. Well, they gave us some hard work and worry, but all's well that ends well."

"We haven't come to the end yet," Charley said, gloomily. "We have only gained a few days of peace, I'm afraid."

Walter looked at his chum closely. It was so unlike Charley to give way to gloomy forebodings. "You want to get out and have a little fun," he said decidedly. "If you keep on brooding and worrying over this business, you are going to break down, and then what will become of the job? What you want to do is to get out and forget trouble for a couple of days and get the cobwebs out of your brain."

"I guess you are right," Charley admitted, "and I guess now is the time for both of us to take a little vacation. There is not much likelihood of trouble for several days. Let's get an early start in the morning, take our guns and some grub, and foot it out to Indiantown. Hire a couple of ponies from the Indians, and ride out to the great lake."

"I'll go you," Walter cried eagerly, for he always welcomed anything that promised excitement or change. "It does seem a bit selfish, though, for us to go and leave the Captain and Chris behind."

"They would not care to make such a trip," declared his chum, "but we'll ask them, anyway."

"Go 'way, you white chillens," said Chris, when they approached him on the subject. "How you 'spect dis nigger's going to get away? Dat Sam can't cook none yet. 'Sides I don't want to go trapsing 'round. I'se done found a little pond back there a bit, whar de fish is so thick you have to push 'em away with a stick to keep them from all taking de bait at once."

They found the Captain, seated in the shade of a pine tree, smoking his pipe and watching the graders at work.

"No, lads, I don't care to go," he said, with a smile. "I reckon I'm a heap sight more comfortable here than I would be tramping around in the sun. I'm getting too old to get much pleasure out of such trips. You two go and enjoy yourselves. I'll stay and look out for things."

"We'll have to move camp in a few days," Charley remarked, as they paused on the grade for a few minutes to glance over the work that had been done since they had bought out Murphy. "The machine is getting too far from camp. It gives the men too long a walk, and wastes a lot of time. Well, I can't see but what everything is running smooth now," he concluded with satisfaction.

And, in truth, the boys had reason to be satisfied with the way things were going. From ahead of the machine came the sound of axe and the sharp report of dynamite, as the right-of-way men cleared a path for the machine. The machine itself was swinging back and forth with the regularity of clockwork. Back of the machine followed the graders, leveling off the thrown-up dirt, while behind them came the bridge builders, constructing bridges over the gaps left by the machine. Everywhere was bustle.