LITMIR.BIZ

      CHAPTER VIII.

       THE TREASURE SEEKER

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      "Thet thar's my handle," acknowledged the man; "but I'm strapped ef I understand how you 'uns happen ter know it!"

      He stared at the boys and the guide in blank amazement. Seeing Pedro's face fairly, he gave a slight start, and then looked still more closely.

      "There's no doubt," palpitated Frank; "you are Alwin Bushnell?"

      "That's me," nodded the camper.

      "And you are alone?"

      "Certun sure."

      "Bound west?"

      "I reckon."

      "For the mountains and the Silver——"

      Frank caught himself, and stopped short, remembering Pedro, and knowing the guide's ears and eyes were wide open to hear and see everything.

      Bushnell fell back a step, a look of still greater surprise coming to his bronzed and bearded face.

      "W'at's thet thar you wus goin' ter say?" he demanded.

      "Wait," said Frank, "I will tell you later. It is better."

      Plainly, Alwin Bushnell was puzzled, and not a little amazed.

      "You know my handle, an' you seem ter know whatever way I'm trailin'. This yere lays over me, as I acknowledges instanter."

      "That's not hard to explain."

      "Then I begs yer to explain it without delay."

      "Your partner told us of you."

      "Old Jack?"

      "Yes."

      "When, and whar?"

      "Two days ago, outside of Mendoza."

      "He wuz thar?"

      "Yes."

      "But how did yer know me?"

      "We saw you."

      "When?"

      "When you were pursued across the plain by bandits."

      Bushnell slapped his thigh.

      "Thar!" he cried; "I remembers yer now! You wuz near a doby hut, an' yer opened up on ther pizen skunks as wuz arter me."

      "That's right."

      "Wall, I'm much obliged, fer you socked ther lead ter them critters so they switched off an' let me get away. You kin shoot, boy."

      "Some."

      "Some! Wa'al, that's right, you bet! Give us a wag of your fin! I'm mortal glad ter clap peepers on yer, fer I never expected ter see yer an' thank yer fer thet trick."

      Frank swung from the saddle, and surrendered his hand into the broad "paw" of the rough and hearty Westerner, who gave it a crushing grip and a rough shake, repeating:

      "I'm mortal glad ter see yer, thet's whatever! But I want ter know how you happened to chip inter thet thar little game. You took a hand at jest ther right time ter turn ther run of ther cards, an' I got out without goin' broke."

      "I chipped in because I saw you were a white man, and you were hard pressed by a villainous crew who must be bandits. I believe in white men standing by white men."

      "Say, thet's a great motter, young man. 'White men stand by white men.' As fer me, I don't like a Greaser none whatever."

      As he said this, Bushnell gave Pedro another searching look, and the guide scowled at the ground in a sullen way.

      "Now," continued the Westerner, "w'at I wants ter know next is w'at yer knows about Jack Burk. We had a place all agreed on ter meet w'en I returned, but he wusn't thar, an' I hed ter go it alone. That's why I'm yere alone."

      "It was not Burk's fault that he did not meet you."

      "Say you so? Then lay a straight trail fer me ter foller."

      "He was sick."

      "Is that whatever? Wa'al, derned ef I could seem ter cut his trail anywhar I went, an' I made a great hustle fer it."

      "He was in the hut where you saw us."

      "Wa'al, dern my skin! Ef I'd knowed thet, I'd made a straight run fer thet yere ranch, bet yer boots!"

      "He came to the door, and shouted to you."

      "You don't tell me thet! An' I didn't hear him! Wa'al, wa'al! Whar wuz my ears? Whar is he now?"

      "Dead."

      Bushnell reeled.

      "Is he that?" he gasped, recovering. "An' I didn't get to see him! Say, this clean upsets me, sure as shootin'!"

      The man seemed greatly affected.

      "Poor old Jack!" he muttered. "We've made many a tramp together, an' we struck it rich at last, but he'll never git ther good of thet thar strike."

      Then he seemed to remember that he was watched by several eyes, and he straightened up, passing his hand over his face.

      "Jack shall hev a big monumint," he cried. "Tell me whar my old pard is planted."

      "That is something I do not know, Mr. Bushnell."

      The man was astonished.

      "Don't know? Why, how's thet?"

      Frank told the entire story of Burk's death and mysterious disappearance, to which Bushnell listened, with breathless interest. When it was finished, the man cried:

      "Thet thar beats me! I don't understand it, none whatever."

      "No more do I," confessed Frank. "There is no doubt but Burk was dead, and the corpse did not walk away of its own accord. It was my intention to investigate the mystery, but later events prevented."

      Frank then explained about the kidnaping of Professor Scotch by the bandits.

      While the boy was relating this, Bushnell was closely studying the guide's face, as revealed by the firelight. Frank noted that a strange look seemed to come into the eyes of the Westerner, and he appeared to be holding himself in check.

      When this explanation was finished, Bushnell asked:

      "And you are on your way ter Huejugilla el Alto with ther hope of rescuin' ther professor?"

      "We

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