“I’m afraid we won’t be on hand when the pursuers stop that carriage. Ten to one I’ll ruin this horse if I try to push him.”
Always sympathetic for dumb beasts, Dick was hurt by every hobbling stride of the animal he bestrode.
“Keep him going, pard,” urged the Texan. “This is a right desperate case, and you’ll not be to blame for the horse if he is ruined. I’m some anxious to see that the Maid of Athens gets a fair deal in the game, and I’m afraid the cards are stacked against her.”
So Dick urged the faltering horse onward, and they toiled up the road on which they had last seen the closed carriage.
Suddenly from beyond the ridge came electrifying sounds. The air bore to their ears the distant barking of firearms.
“I judge the scrimmage is on, Dick!” palpitated Buckhart. “The battle is taking place and we’re not in it. What a howling shame!”
“Wait, Brad!” cried Dick. “I’ve got to quit this horse. Your animal must carry us both.”
He leaped to the ground as the Texan pulled up. With another bound he was up behind the Texan. The lame horse was abandoned.
“Git!” cried Buckhart.
The animal bearing the double burden responded nobly. Up the road and round the shoulder of the ridge they went.