Part 26 (2/2)

”And we've caught him with the goods,” remarked Pete, indulging in the slang which meant so much. ”He'll go to jail for this.”

”If we catch him,” suggested Mr. Bellmore.

”Oh, we'll get him,” declared Pete. ”Come on here you cayuse you!” he called merrily to his mount.

But alas for Pete's hopes. Whether the extra burst of speed was more than his horse could respond to, or whether in the excess of his zeal Pete forgot his usual caution probably would never be known.

But the fact of the matter was that his horse Stepped into the burrow of a prairie dog, and, a moment later, the foreman went flying over the head of his steed, landing on the soft gra.s.s some distance away.

Dave and Mr. Bellmore pulled up at once, but they had hardly done so before Pete leaped to his feet.

”Ride on I Ride on!” he yelled. ”Don't mind me. Get that skunk!”

”But you may be hurt!” Dave called.

”Hurt? No, not a bit! I'm all right!”

”What about the horse?” asked the engineer.

The animal had picked himself up, and walked with a limp toward his master, for Pete had trained him well.

”Poor brute's got a twisted shoulder--I'll have to ride him slow after I rub him down,” Pete said, mournfully enough. ”I can't make any kind of speed on him. Ride on, you fellows! Don't let that skunk get away!”

It was the law and custom of the range. When a chase was on, if one failed and fell behind, the other, or others, must keep going. It was a hard law, but life on the range was not easy, nor was it one for children.

”All right!” called Dave, recognizing the necessity for prompt action.

”We'll get him!”

”And watch out for him,” Pete warned them. ”He'll be desperate if he finds you're closing in on him.”

”We'll watch out,” said Mr. Bellmore.

Again he and Dave dashed on, leaving Pete to minister to his injured horse. The foreman at once proceeded to rub vigorously the strained shoulder with a bunch of gra.s.s. His steed winced it the pain, but seemed to know it was for its own good.

”I'll have to go back,” Pete said, mournfully. ”But I hope they catch that skunk!”

It was the meanest name he could think of to call Len Molick.

The chase was resumed. Pete's accident had cost Dave and his companion some precious moments and they had lost distance. But they felt that, eventually, they must win. For their horses were fresher than was the mount of the youth who had set the fire, and already they had appreciably lessened the distance between them.

Len's horse had shown a wonderful burst of speed at first, and he had secured a quick start.

”But it won't do him any good,” said Dave. ”We'll have him ridden down in ten minutes more.”

”I hope so,” murmured Mr. Bellmore, ”Why. Can't Kurd stand it?”

”Oh, yes, but I'm afraid I can't. This is more riding than I've done since I had my accident, and my ankle is paining me.”

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