“Is there no way for us to get him back to the Robin Hood?”
“How’ll we make the riffle, partner?”
Dick meditated a moment. As he did so, both lads heard in the distance the sound of hoofbeats and the rumble of wheels, telling them that a carriage was approaching at a rapid pace.
“Somebody else driving a heap hard, Dick,” said the Texan. “Perhaps more trouble is coming.”
“We’ll have to be ready for anything. If it’s some one we do not know, we’ll appeal to him to take this man in and carry him back to the inn.”
They waited, Buckhart producing his pistol, while Dick led the horses aside beneath a tree.
Back along the road a short distance there was an opening among the trees, and soon the carriage, drawn by a single horse, came rumbling through this star-lighted spot.
Dick joined Brad.
“We’ll have to stop it, even if we scare the driver out of his wits,” he said.
The boys stepped into the road and called to the driver. Immediately a man rose up in the carriage and cried: