“Come!”
The flushed, wild-eyed, excited landlord appeared in the door and attempted to check them, demanding why they had turned his house into a Bedlam.
Dick swept him aside.
“No time to explain now!” he declared. “We’ll explain to you later.”
The boys rushed downstairs once more, out of the inn and round to the stable. A hostler demanded to know what had happened.
“Hi’d like to ’ave you tell me what it’s hall habout!” he said. “Why did the gentlemen ’ave their ’osses taken hout and then ’ave them ’itched in hagain in such an hawful ’urry?”
They seized him and demanded to know where their own horses were. Their manner frightened him.
“Those men were ruffians, and they must be caught,” said Dick. “Help us get our horses to pursue them. If you don’t you may be taken as the accomplice of the scoundrels. It’s worth a pound note to you, my man, if you get our horses out instantly and provide us with bridles for them.”
This inducement led the hostler to move quickly. He found the bridles and brought out the horses. The boys lost not a second in helping bridle the animals. At the same moment, it seemed, both flung themselves astride the beasts. A cowboy yell broke from the lips of the Texan—a yell that sent his mount bounding forward with surprise and fear. Dick smote his horse with his open hand, which fell with a pistol-like crack on the animal’s rump.
“Hold on!” shouted the hostler. “Where is that pound note you said I should ’ave?”