"
"We saw no one except stragglers when we came up," was the reply.
"After the signals came, Ned Nestor and Frank Shaw went down there
to see who they were, and they are down there yet, I guess. At
least, they haven't returned."
The soldiers, who were now laying aside their weapons and preparing
to cook supper, late as the hour was, observed the lad eagerly at the
mention of Nestor's name. The lad noticed, too, as they gathered
about him with questioning looks, that they were not at all like
Mexicans in appearance, now that they had thrown off their outer
clothing. Jimmie glanced from the officer to his men.
"You don't look like Greasers to me," he said.
The officer laughed but made no reply.
"You came in with Ned Nestor?" he asked.
"Sure I did."
"And you say he went back down the mountain to see who was signaling down there?"
"That is what he said when he went away."
"What did he say about coming back?"
"Of course he'll come back," declared Jimmie. "He's needed here.
Since his departure the boy he left here with me has been geezled
by some one. I left him alone just a minute, and when I returned
he wasn't here. They're all lost but me, and I'm from the Bowery,
so nobody can lose me."
"Who was it that was taken from the camp?" asked the officer.
Jimmie hesitated, for he did not know what reply to make. These men
might be in quest of Fremont. Tempted by the large reward offered
for the capture of the boy, they might have crossed the river and
followed Nestor into the mountains.
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