There were four horses hobbled near-by cropping the grass which grew over a level stretch that extended back toward the rocks, being the only trace of any green thing which Dick had seen since he entered the Bad Lands.
“That’s where they are,” he muttered. “I’ve run them down at last.”
He hesitated a moment and then started to walk over to the hut.
“I’m bound to help that girl if I can,” thought Dick. “Those fellows are such a lot of cowards that——”
Suddenly two hands were clapped upon his shoulders from behind and Dick found himself whirled violently around to face Martin Mudd.
“That’s the talk. Glad you came around,” chuckled the man. “It’s dollars in my pocket to do you up, Dick Darrell, and don’t you forget it you are going to be done.”
CHAPTER VIII.
A NEW ARRIVAL FROM THE LAKE.
If Dick had been fool enough to show fight then there is no doubt that he would have been killed outright, for the man Mudd got him by the throat with his left hand and at the same time tried his old game of whipping out a knife and holding it over Dick’s heart.
“Hold on!” cried Dick. “Hold on, there, Mr. Mudd. Aren’t you making a mistake?”
Dick spoke with amazing calmness considering the circumstances.