"If you take me with you!" repeated Frank. "What do you mean?"

"I mean just this: I shall find it exceedingly lonesome living here in
the mountains by myself, and I don't know of any one in the world I had
rather have for a companion than yourself."

"Humph!" exclaimed Frank; "that's a nice idea. I won't go."

"Of course," continued the Ranchero, not heeding the interruption, "when
you fail to make your appearance at home for three or four days, your
uncle will think he has seen the last of you. He will believe that you
have been clawed up by grizzlies, or that you have tumbled into some of
these gullies. He will raise a hue and cry, search high and low for you,
offer rewards, and all that; and, while the fuss is going on, and people
are wondering what in the world could have become of you, you will be
safe and sound, and living like a gentleman, with me, on the fat of the
land."

"But, Pierre," said Frank, now beginning to be really frightened, "I
don't want to live with you on the fat of the land, and I won't do it.
Let go that bridle."

The Ranchero, as before, paid no attention to the interruption. He
seemed to delight in tormenting his prisoner.

"After you have been with me about six months," he went on, "and your
friends have given up all hope of ever seeing you again, I'll send a
note to Mr. Winters, stating that you are alive and well, and that, if
he will give me twenty thousand dollars in gold, I will return you to
him in good order, right side up with care. If I find that we can get