Into the timber Frank plunged. It was not a very wide strip, and he soon passed through it. On the farther side he found the tracks again. The shoes of the horse pointed to the north, but Frank Merriwell rode to the south.
The other boys had paused to help Rattleton catch the horse in the pasture, so they were unable to follow Frank closely.
Ahead of Merriwell, beyond a field, lay a road. He made straight for a gap in the fence, and there he found the horse had passed through, apparently having turned from the road and taken to the field at that point, judging by the direction in which the shoes pointed.
Frank took to the road, gave his horse the spur, and tore along till he came around a bend. Nearly a mile away a horseman was just leaving the road and taking to the fields. He carried a rifle in his hands.
“You’re my game for a cool thousand!” thought the boy, triumphantly; “and I believe you have handicapped yourself by the trick you have tried to play.”
He rode in hot pursuit, and it was not long before the man discovered he was followed. Then the unknown showed guilt, for he whipped up his horse and tried to run away.
“I’ll kill this horse before you shall do it!” grated Merriwell.
It was a hunt by sight now, with the fugitive making for a long strip of timber between some hills. Frank felt that the man stood a good chance of escaping if he got into those woods.
A fence lay before the man in advance. It was a high, zigzag affair. Without seeking an opening, he made straight for it.
Frank was watching. He saw the horse try to clear the fence, saw the animal strike, saw the man and beast go down.