“He’ll not reach Kilmerville in time to stop that train,” he declared. “We’ve got him.”
But Merriwell was sparing the black horse as much as possible, hoping the creature would hold out. He saw he could not run away from his pursuers, and his only object was to keep in advance of them sufficiently to catch the train and get away.
Frank was anxious, but still he kept cool. He knew Riddle could not prove the malicious charge of robbery, and he also knew the fellow could make trouble for him in Dundee if he saw fit to follow the game up.
Merry had made up his mind to telegraph to Haley from Dundee as soon as the place was reached, in case he escaped the pursuers. In that way he could put the manager onto the main points of the crooked business the rival concern had attempted to carry out.
At times it seemed that the black horse must give out entirely, but Frank encouraged the creature without attempting to force it along, and the animal responded bravely.
“Too bad, old boy!” muttered the youth, sympathetically. “Hope I’ll not lame you permanently by driving you this way. If I knew I should, I’d be tempted to stop right here and let those chaps take me.”
Looking back, he saw the pursuers lashing their horses and making renewed efforts to overtake him in a hurry.
Looking to the left and southeast, he detected a faint trail of smoke against the evening sky.
Then came the far-away, wailing shriek of a locomotive whistle.
“By Jove!” Merry muttered. “That’s my train! Kilmerville must be just beyond the next rise. Looks to me as if I’ll have a hard pull to make connections with that train.”