It was, nevertheless, the wisest thing he could have done. He had not
been identified with this outfit except by Cortinez, and Cortinez was
safe for twelve hours.

We found the Joshua-tree without difficulty.

"Now," said I, "here is the plan. You are to take these papers to Señor
Buck Johnson, at the Box Springs ranch. That's the next ranch on the
fork of the road. Do you remember it?"

"Yes," said Brower, who had waked up and seemed quite sober and
responsible. "I can get to it."

"Wake him up. Show him these papers. Make him read them. Tell him that
Miss Emory and I are in the Bat-eye Tunnel. Remember that?"

"The Bat-eye Tunnel," repeated Artie.

"Why don't _you_ go?" inquired the girl, anxiously.

"I ride too heavy; and I know where the tunnel is," I replied. "If
anybody else was to go, it would be you. But Artie rides light and sure,
and he'll have to ride like hell. Here, put these papers inside your
shirt. Be off!"

Lights were flickering at the ranch as men ran to and fro with lanterns.
It would not take these skilled _vaqueros_ long to catch their horses
and saddle up. At any moment I expected to see the massive doors swing
open to let loose the wolf pack.