“Well,” said Hodge grimly, “I did my level best to bore the other cur, and my conscience would not have troubled me had I succeeded. How did you do this one?”
“He had wonderful strength and wind, and he thrashed round to beat the band. I was forced to be at my best all the time, and I hurled him back repeatedly after he had partly succeeded in rising with me. The last time I did so his head struck against the exposed root of that tree, and it doubled under him with a snap like a pistol-shot. Then he was limp as a rag, and the fight was over, so far as he was concerned.”
Bart caught the ruffian by the shoulders and partly lifted him. Then he let the fellow drop back, a slight shiver running over him.
“Neck broken!” he said shortly.
“Broken!” exclaimed Frank. “As bad as that?”
“Sure thing!” said Hodge. “He won’t try to kidnap any more children, for I reckon that was what they were doing with this one.”
Frank turned his attention to the child once more, while Bart looked after the tired mustangs. As he approached the animals, a figure suddenly sprang out of the gloom and onto the back of one of them. There was a yell, and away dashed the animal along the path, bearing the ruffian who had escaped.
Hodge took a shot at the fellow, and then, finding the man still clung to the mustang, having disappeared in the gloom, he fired again in the direction of the sound. Still the mustang fled on with its burden, and Bart muttered an exclamation of rage.
The other animal had been alarmed by this, and Bart found some trouble in approaching the creature, though he finally succeeded in capturing him.
“Well, Merriwell,” he said, as he returned, leading the single mount, “we’ve lost one of our beasts.”