Bob breathed easy again. Had anything happened he must have felt heavy-hearted for a long time; because the black animal seemed to enter into his very life, such were the warm associations between them.
“Sorry to lose you, Sim!” exclaimed Mr. Riley, as he once more climbed into his saddle, ready to take up the pursuit.
“And I’m all knocked to pieces by my misfortune!” grumbled the trailer. “Hope ye have good luck, Mr. Riley, an’ fetch the stuff back again. So-long, boys!”
They were off again, leaving Sim there on the shelf, waving them good-by.
Both Frank and Mr. Riley were on the lookout for signs of those whom they were chasing. Even Bob strained his eyes to catch some glimpses of them, though he hardly knew in which direction to look.
“Have you seen anything of them, Frank?” he asked, presently, when he urged his horse alongside Buckskin.
“Sure,” came the confident reply. “Several times I’ve caught sight of the pair. They’re whipping up to beat the band; but we seem to be gaining all the while.”
“Must have surprised ’em to see us, after they played such a clever game to cut off all pursuit, eh?” went on his chum.
“That’s a fact, Bob; they expected that dynamite to smash the whole trail, and leave a gap no horse could pass over. But it failed to do its work, even if Sim did lose his horse, and come near going down himself.”
“Whew! but it was some ticklish when that explosion came,” remarked Bob, with a little whistle. “I’ll never forget it as long as I live. I thought Domino would sure stand up on his hind legs, and try to wheel around. That would have wound me up, and both of us must have gone over the edge. Excuse me from chasing after a couple of treasure thieves along a path that is hung in the air.”