At this sharp command the man with the horses turned slightly to look back. He crouched low, and wore a sombrero pulled down well over his face. On the instant he rode to the front of the galloping steeds, thus getting out of range of the old miner's weapon.

"Come on, we must get our hosses!" sang out Tom Dillon, and started forward on the run. Then he let out a shrill whistle, one he knew was used for calling the animal he had been riding.

The effect of the whistle was all that could have been desired. The horse dropped to a walk and then turned back. And as Tom Dillon continued to whistle, the intelligent steed came closer and closer, until the old miner was able to grasp it by the halter.

But all this had taken valuable time, and meanwhile the other horses continued to gallop on, led by the man in front, who was now riding like the wind. Who he was they could not make out, but they strongly suspected Sol Blugg or one of his cronies.

"I'd shoot if them hosses wasn't in the way!" cried Tom Dillon, wrathfully.

"Can't you go after them?" asked Dave and Roger, in a breath.

"I can and I will!" answered the old miner. "Stay right here till I get back!" And with those words he saddled his horse with all speed, and in less than a minute later was flying down the back trail after the stolen steeds and the rascal who was making off with them.

CHAPTER XIX

THE NEWSPAPER CLEW

"Do you think he'll catch that fellow?"

It was Phil who asked the question, as he and Dave and Roger watched the old miner disappear around a bend of the back trail.

"I don't know about that," returned Dave. "But if he gets the horses back it will be something."

"I should say yes!" cried the senator's son. "Why, we won't be able to go on unless we get them back!" he added, his face showing his worry.

"Listen!" exclaimed Roger a minute later. "Somebody is shooting!"

It was true--a shot had sounded out on the morning air. Soon it was followed by another, at a greater distance--showing that pursued and pursuer were drawing farther from the boys.

The boys walked slowly back to the campfire and commenced to stir it up, and then they finished their morning toilet. Dave heaved a deep sigh.

"I must say I don't feel much like eating," he observed.

"Oh, we might as well fix breakfast," came from Phil. "It will help to pa.s.s the time. It won't do any good to just sit around."

Fortunately their provisions were at hand, so it was an easy matter to prepare the morning meal. Before eating, however, Roger and Dave climbed the tall rock behind the camp and looked for some sign of Tom Dillon and the man he was pursuing.

"I can't see a thing," announced Roger, after a long look through the field-gla.s.ses. "Here, you try," and he handed the gla.s.ses to our hero.

For several minutes Dave surveyed the distant landscape in vain. Then he uttered a cry.

"I see them, Roger! There they go!" And he pointed excitedly with his finger.

At a distance they could not calculate they saw Tom Dillon and the rascal he was after, and also the flying horses. They were all bounding along a rocky trail, the would-be horse thief well in advance. Suddenly they saw this individual make a turn and disappear around some rocks.

The free horses kept on, with the old miner after them.

"That rascal has gotten away!" announced Dave. "He has given Mr. Dillon the slip."

"Dave, do you think Mr. Dillon will catch our horses?"

"Yes--sooner or later. They are bound to stop running, to feed or to drink, and then he'll round them up. I guess all we can do is to go down and wait for him to get back."

"But those shots! What if he is wounded!"

"I hope he isn't, Roger."

They climbed down to the camp and told Phil about what they had witnessed. Then all ate breakfast slowly, meanwhile discussing the adventure from all possible standpoints.

"It was one of the Blugg crowd, I feel certain of that," said Dave.

"Perhaps it was Sol Blugg himself."

Slowly the morning wore away. When the sun came up it was very hot and the youths were glad enough to draw into the shade of the rocks. Just before noon all three climbed the tall rock again, to look not only for Tom Dillon and the horses, but also for Abe Blower and those with him.

But not a soul was in sight, nor did any horses show themselves. At a distance they made out some mule deer and several goats, but that was all.

"Do you think we ought to walk along the back trail?" asked Roger, when they were getting lunch. "Mr. Dillon may need our services."

"I'll go if you want me to, Roger," answered our hero. "But he was a good distance away when we saw him through the gla.s.ses."

"Let us wait awhile--until the awful heat of the midday sun is over,"

suggested Phil. "The sunshine just now is enough to give one a sun-stroke."

It was a little after three o'clock when the three lads prepared to walk along the back trail, on the lookout for the old miner. But just as they started Dave put up his hand.

"Listen!"

All did so, and from a distance heard the clatter of horses' hoofs on the rocky trail. Then came a cheery call.

"It's Mr. Dillon!" cried Roger, and let out a call in return, and the others did likewise.

Soon the old miner appeared around a bend of the trail. He was seated on his own steed and driving the others in front of him. He looked tired out, and the horses looked the same.

"Are you all right, Mr. Dillon?" sang out Dave, as he ran forward to stop the nearest horse.

"All right, boys!" was the answer. "That is, I will be as soon as I've rested a bit. I've had some ride, believe me!"

Roger and Phil helped Dave to secure the free horses and tether them, and our hero held the old miner's steed while he fairly tumbled to the ground. The horse was in a heavy lather, and Mr. Dillon was covered with dust.

"You weren't shot, were you?" questioned the senator's son, anxiously.

"No, although I come putty nigh to it," was the answer, and the old miner pointed to a hole through the brim of the hat he wore. "The skunk fired twict at me!"

"We heard two shots," said Dave. "We were afraid you might be in trouble. If we had had horses we would have followed you."

"I did better nor he did," went on the old miner, with a satisfied ring in his voice. "I plugged him in the arm."