CHAPTER XVI.
WOLVES ON THE MOUNTAIN.
"And so you are George Fremont, the scoundrel wanted by the police of New York City for attempted murder and robbery--the rascal for whose capture there is a reward of $10,000 offered!" As the renegade repeated the accusation, his eyes flashed malignantly.
Fremont listened silently, apparently unmoved by the vilifying words.
A moment's reflection convinced Jimmie--still observing the group from the shelter of his rocky hiding place--that the arrival of the messenger had slightly improved the situation so far as the interests of his friends were concerned.

The critical moment had for the present passed or been delayed, and the prisoner was no longer threatened with immediate death.

Jimmie, too, had been temporarily relieved of the responsibility of the act he had decided upon--the shooting of the renegade if he lifted an arm to signal the murder of the prisoner.
Still, Fremont was yet in the power of the renegade, and might soon be, through the latter's malice and greed, in the hands of the Mexican police and on his way back to the Tombs unless something was done immediately.

Before, the renegade had been alone in his wish for the destruction of the boy; that is, alone of all the group about him, and of all the outlaws gathering in the mountains.

Now, with the news of the reward published abroad by the messenger and the renegade, every native man, woman and child in Mexico would take a personal interest in delivering the prisoner to officials competent to hand over the large reward.
Jimmie listened intently and with a fastbeating heart for the strident voice of a drum.