Breathlessly he burst into the camp, and darting to Jack's side, gasped incoherently,
"They're lynchin' him! They're lynchin' him!"
"Him? Whom? Why, it's Jim," exclaimed the rolling-stone, sitting up and blinking his eyes, his example being followed by the surprised Loyola.
"Come!" urged the panting boy. "Come quick! We may be in time. I give 'em a good scare. Follow me!" and off he went.
Jack was up in an instant, rapidly putting two and two together from the boy's wild words, and away he dashed in pursuit, with Loyola on his heels.
As they ran Jim managed to gasp out between his sobbing breaths a short account of Broncho's lynching, which drew an exclamation of concerned astonishment from the rover.
All this time Broncho was using his best eloquence to get the bluejacket to return to his grisly job.
"Brace up!" he urged, "brace up! You-alls ain't goin' to stampede the trail at a bunch o' ghost talk."
"I can't, man! Blawst me, I can't do it," groaned the terrified Bill Benson. "Gaud save us," he went on; "it were a warnin'!"
"Chucks!" growled the impatient and lion-hearted cowboy. "Rats to 'em, I say! Air you a quitter, Bill Benson? You, a British navy-man, a quitter?" and there was scorn keen as a razor-edge in his drawling voice.