frightened, were staring up at the boys now gathering about him.

"Are you hurt?" demanded Tad breathlessly.

"I'm killed."

"Nonsense! It's only a flesh wound—-"

"Is—-is he shot?" stammered Walter Perkins.

"Of course I'm shot. Don't you see I am?" demanded Chunky with considerable spirit for a man who had been the mark of a bullet and who according to his own word was dead.

Tad half dragged the fat boy down to the creek where the blood was quickly washed from his cheek. It was then seen that a bullet had grazed Stacy's cheek, leaving a raw streak across it.

Professor Zepplin, now mindful of his duty, had hurried up to them, and down on his knees was examining the wound critically.

"Hm—-m—-m!" he muttered. "Bad business, bad business!"

"But—-what does it mean?" urged Walter.

"What does it mean? It means that the Germans have got us," wailed Stacy Brown. "Oh, I knew we should be in this war sooner or later, but I didn't think I should be the first man to get shotted up."

"It means some one has been trying to shoot us up," answered Rector.

"Trying!" exploded Chunky. "They did more than try. They succeeded.
Don't you see this wound on my countenance? Wait till I get sight of
the man who put that mark on my face. I'll bear the scar for life.
I——-"

"It is my opinion that we are in a dangerous position," declared the professor, getting up and glancing about him apprehensively.

"We were. We are all right here for a little while," replied Tad. "But we shall have to seek other quarters, I am afraid, and that without delay."

"Surely, it must be a mistake," protested the professor. "Some one must have been shooting at us under a misapprehension that we were another party."

"It doesn't make any difference what their motive is, sir," answered Tad. "The fact remains that some one is trying to get us and we must look lively or they will pink one or more of us. Get up, Stacy! You are all right. Lead your pony in here while I take an observation."

Tad mounted his own horse and galloped along at the base of the rocks, well shielded from any one who might be hiding further back in the mountains. The Pony Rider Boy's mind was working rapidly. He was forming a plan of campaign. He was inclined to agree with the theory of Professor Zepplin. Still, theories would not help them at this critical moment. They must protect themselves and at once if they expected to get out alive. One course was plainly open to them. They could mount their ponies and ride out over the plains at a gallop and perhaps escape. However, this plan was rather risky. Besides, Tad did not like the idea of running away.

"No, we've got to do something else," he declared out loud. "I have it!" The boy brought his pony up standing and gazed off over the plain to a point about a quarter of a mile beyond, where the plain rolled into a hollow, a "hog hollow" as it was called down there.

Butler galloped back to where his companions were standing anxiously awaiting him.

"We are wasting time, Tad," cried the professor as the lad rode up. "It is my opinion that we had better ride into that canyon there and make camp in some secluded spot where we shall not be easily found."

"I am afraid that won't help us any, Professor," said Tad. "How could we expect to hide ourselves in there so completely that a mountaineer would not find us? No, sir, it is my opinion that our only safety lies out there in the open, at least for the rest of the afternoon and the night."

"What, ride out there to be shot up again?" demanded Stacy. "No, sir, not for Stacy Brown! I've been shot up once. I don't propose to make a bull's-eye of myself again."

"Stacy is right, boys. It would be foolishness to follow such a course and—-"

"Wait till you hear my plan, sir," urged Butler.

"We will hear it. Proceed."

"Out yonder about a quarter of a mile from the base of the rocks is a depression in the plain. If we can reach it we shall be safe—-"

"Yes, if we can reach it," repeated Ned.

"In doing so we should be shot in all probability," objected Professor
Zepplin.

"I think not, sir."

"Explain what you mean?"

"From the position occupied by the man or men when they fired at us out there, I am sure they could not see us were we to follow the course I went out on just now. If you will ride down to the edge of the foothills with me and wait there, I will gallop out and prove my theory."

"What do you mean?" questioned the professor.

"I will see if I can draw their fire," answered Tad.

Professor Zepplin shook his head.

"Too risky!"

"It certainly is risky to stay here. Listen, sir. If that man wants to get us he surely will be creeping down on our position before long. We are in greater peril here, where we can't see anything on one side of us, than we would be out there where we have an unobstructed view on all sides. My plan is to make camp out in the hollow; then we will place a guard over the camp, keeping a sharp watch all through the night. By morning we'll be able to find out what is in the wind."

"I won't move a step," declared Stacy stubbornly.

"You will do whatever seems best to the rest of us," answered the professor sternly. Then, after a moment's thought, he added, "I am inclined, upon second thought, to agree with Tad. We will try the plan."

"Good. Follow me. Get that pony, Chunky. I told you once before to catch him. We'll be in a fine mess if you lose your mount."

"I'd rather lose my mount than to lose my precious life," answered the fat boy surlily.

By this time the others were taking to their saddles. The faces of all wore serious expressions. They had not looked for anything quite so lively as this. It was not the first time the Pony Rider Boys had smelled powder when the powder was being expended on them, but they liked it none the better for past experiences.

Stacy's cheek was bleeding again. He was holding his handkerchief to the wound and his face was a little paler than usual.

"Buck up!" commanded Ned. "You're not going to show the white feather, are you?"

"No, it's a red feather I'm showing," wailed the fat boy.

"Forward!" ordered Butler. "Get up, Chunky!"

The party moved off, keeping close to the rocks, Tad now and then casting apprehensive glances up to their tops. He was not wholly satisfied that they were out of range of the bullets. The man who had been firing at them, too, was practically a dead shot.

"Now spread out," commanded Tad after they had reached the point where he previously had halted. "Don't shout, but when I wave my hand, ride fast for the hollow. I'll be all right; don't worry about me."

With that the lad galloped leisurely out on the plain, his back to the mountains. It was a bold thing to do. Deep down in his heart the Pony Rider Boy expected every second to hear a bullet scream over his head, providing he was fortunate enough not to stop the bullet with his body. Not a shot greeted his bold act.

Tad rode on, finally disappearing in the "hog hollow." A few moments later he rode up the ridge, waving his hands for them to come on. Professor Zepplin started out at once, followed by the