“You’re right,” declared Bob. “They happen to have poor mounts. Why, I can see one of the horses limp even from here. But, Frank, isn’t it likely those fellows will put up a stiff fight before surrendering to us?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if they did, Bob. Now look at them turn that bend, and disappear from sight. Seems as if the trail runs along a path that’s fastened to the face of the cliff; doesn’t it? A slip would mean trouble for man and horses. But if they can make it, we ought to be able to.”
“Where they lead we follow!” cried Bob, much excited by this time.
They were soon sweeping along close to the dangerous place in the trail. Sim was in the van, for since he had been installed in the place of honor as tracker, it was only right he should assume the lead. Next to him came Mr. Riley; then Frank, while Bob brought up in the rear.
“Say, Frank, did you happen to see the sacks of treasure hung on the animals?” asked the Kentucky boy.
“Not that I knew of; did you?” demanded the other quickly.
“Well, now, I didn’t, that’s a fact,” replied Bob. “But then, they might have them concealed. They would expect to meet lots of white people on the road after they had gone a certain distance. There, Sim is turning the bend in the path along the face of the cliff. Ugh! don’t look down, or you’ll get dizzy. It’s awful deep right here. One little slip, and where would you land?”
Hardly had Bob made this suggestive remark, calculated to give Frank a shiver, than their ears were saluted by a heavy explosion right ahead around the bend.
A portion of the cliff path seemed to separate itself from the rock wall, and go plunging down; and Sim, together with his horse, was carried over the edge with it!