A short time later Frank turned again to speak to his comrade.
“Here’s as far as Riley went,” he observed. “See, he swung off at this point, just as he told us, meaning to get several men with guns to go along with him. But instead he ran up against the mob rioters, who forced him to barricade himself in the engine house.”
“That was some hours ago,” remarked Bob.
“Yes, that’s true,” Frank replied.
“Lots of things could happen in that time, Frank.”
“Sure they could; but all the same there’s only one thing we’ve got to do, and that is to keep right on this trail till it brings us up with the three thieves; or else we’ll lose it in the mountains.”
He again started along the tracks of the fugitives. Bob followed close behind, where he could speak when the humor seized him, and ask questions; for Bob knew he had much to learn about the wonderful things a prairie boy knows by heart; and he never hesitated to make inquiries.
“How old did Mr. Riley say this trail was, Frank?” he presently asked.
“Nearly two days; but it’s nearly as plain as when it was made; and if he can fetch along a man worth shucks, we oughtn’t to have any trouble about following.”
“Well, here comes our friend, Mr. Riley, and he’s got a bunch of horses along; besides another man,” Bob remarked; as he looked back over his shoulder.