"Say, Frank!" he exclaimed presently. "Honest Indian, now, I believe
you've sure struck pay dirt, and that's what!"
CHAPTER IX
WHAT HAPPENED TO PEG
"Then you think the same as I do, eh, Bob?" asked the saddle boy, as if
pleased.
"Well, now a heap of things seem to point that way, Frank," replied the
other, slowly. "Only for the life of me I can't get it through my poor
old head just why a girl like that would want to carry on in such a
queer way."
"Nor me, either," laughed his chum. "That's something else for us to
lie awake nights puzzling our wits over. Everything around this
Thunder Mountain just seems to be plastered with mystery--who little
Lopez is; what he, or she may be doing away off here in the canyons of
the Rockies; and more particularly the mystery of the mountain that the
reds look on as sacred; where Mendoza and his band of rustlers have
gone with those stolen horses; and also who the prospectors can be that
this pile of grub was meant for--it's all a blank, that's what!"
"Say, I guess that's pretty near the way it sizes up," grumbled Bob.
"I don't like to run against a stone wall like this. If I was alone
now, d'ye know what I'd likely be doing, Frank?"
"Well, say, perhaps I might hit close to the bull's-eye, since I've
come to know you pretty well these days, Bob," replied the other. "I
wouldn't be surprised one bit but what you'd go rushing after Lopez,
and demand to know all about it.
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