“I know better. Throw it down or I’ll make a finish of you—do you hear?”
Tony pulled out a long knife and flung it upon the ground by the revolver.
Then, as Dick stooped to pick them up he improved the opportunity to take to his heels and run like a deer up the trail.
“By gracious, they are a sweet lot of cowards!” exclaimed Dick. “Never saw their equal. What in the world shall I do about that girl, though? Strange that I should meet her again away out here. I can’t imagine what it means.”
He was hurrying along up the trail as these thoughts flashed over him, for he had no notion of deserting Clara Eglinton, in spite of the fact that she had deserted him.
There was evidently trouble ahead for himself, too, unless he could keep out of the way of the man Mudd.
More puzzled than ever to know what it all meant, Dick made the best time he could up the trail, but his wet clothes seemed to hold him back and it seemed to him that he had never run so slow as he was running now.
For a few moments he could hear the clatter of the horses’ hoofs upon the stony trail and once he heard Mudd give a shout.
Then, after a few moments of silence, other horses were heard—there seemed to be several of them. Then the sounds suddenly died away and all was still.
Dick followed on, a good deal perplexed.