"I guess this will do very well, boys," he said. "I---"

Bang!

"Wow!"

Stacy with a howl of terror slid from his pony, sending up a little
cloud of dust as he collapsed on the plain.

"Wha---what---what-----" gasped the professor.

Bang!

Professor Zepplin's sombrero was snipped from his head. Stacy lay
groaning on the ground.

"Ride for the rocks!" shouted Tad as shot after shot began popping from
somewhere in the mountains, the bullets screaming over their heads
close to their ears or snipping up flecks of dust in the plain.

Tad drove his pony straight at Stacy Brown. He scooped the fat boy up
by the collar and rode madly for the protection of the rocks, Chunky's
heels dragging on the ground. The others rode madly after them, while
the shots were still being fired at them. It was an exciting moment.
No one knew what the shooting meant, nor did they know whether Stacy
really had been hit or not. There was no time to stop to reason the
matter out. It was a case of getting to cover as fast as horse-flesh
would carry them.