Jimmie and the drummer were now advised to get what sleep they could, the guards explaining that they were "expecting company,"and that the talking might frighten the prospective callers away.
It was now nearing midnight, and Jimmie tried hard to lose himself in sleep, but, tired as he was, this seemed to be impossible.
Fremont might be in deadly peril, and Nestor and Shaw were still unaccountably absent. His idea now was that the secret service man had advanced the correct theory regarding the abduction of Fremont. He had no doubt that the boy had been mistaken for Nestor.
Besides, the boy's mind was naturally excited over the strange revelations of the night. The arrival of the secret service men, the announcement that Nestor was working with the War department, the story that he had been in communication with the government at Washington ever since leaving New York, the hint that he held very important papers in his possession, all these supplied food for thought.
Under ordinary conditions the boy would have enjoyed himself to the limit in the mountains. He loved the forests and the wild places, the great spaces; he loved the light of the campfire and the rustle of foliage in the night. However, he was now by far too anxious to appreciate the outing he was having.
While he lay there trying to sleep he heard the guards whispering together. They were speaking of the important part Nestor was playing in the happenings there, and the boy was proud of his association with the resourceful patrol leader.
In a short time the boy heard the guards moving about as if acting under strong excitement. There was also the rattle of arms, as if they were preparing to meet an enemy.
Jimmie crept out of his blankets and crawled to the opening of the little tent. The guards were crouching low in the shadow of a rock, with their guns in hand, and the boy joined them.
"I thought you were asleep, kid," one of the men whispered. "Better go back to your tent. There may be shooting here.""I didn't come down here to skulk," replied the boy, indignantly.
"Are the stragglers coming here again?"
"There is some one moving about," was the reply.
"Perhaps it is Fremont, coming back," suggested Jimmie, hoping with all his heart that he had solved the riddle.
"If Fremont ever gets back here," the other guard observed, "we will have to bring him back. The men who took him away doubtless thought they were getting Nestor, and they will be so angry when they discover their mistake that the boy will receive very little consideration," was the discouraging explanation.
"Then we may as well be out after him," declared Jimmie. ""I'm not goin' to lie in any old tent while they are killing him. I'm going out to find him.""In that case," said the guard, "we'll have to go and find you.
Wait until the lieutenant returns, and we'll see what can be done.
He may bring Nestor with him, you know, and he can assist."Although this seemed good sense, it did not please Jimmie at all, and he went back to his tent resolved to get away from the guards as soon as possible and do what he could to find Fremont. At the very door of the tent, however, he came to a halt, for the signals were going again, and a great rocket flashed across the sky.
