They were able to find the spot where the horse had stepped onto the rock and a few hoof prints nearby, but the man who had arranged the thing had done his work well. For yards around the ground was half rock and no print showed.
“No use hunting around any more tonight,” said Ted, after they had spent a half hour in fruitless effort. “In daylight we might be able to see something worth while, but never with the light of the lantern. I think those hoofs must have been muffled.”
“Oh, there is no doubt of that,” replied Buck. “There was no sound when the horse was led out on the rock and no sound when he retreated. This man knows what he is doing.”
“Yes, and do you know, we’re dealing with an educated man and no Jerry Jackson from Hogs’ Hollow. This man knows more than one thing and when we find a man who is a historian we’ll have our man. He knew just how a Black Rider should be dressed and he did the thing to perfection. Maybe he is doing it for a big joke, I don’t know.”
“But cutting our tent ropes is no joke, I don’t care how well educated a man is!” reminded Buck, as they made their way back toward the camp.
“Oh, I agree with you there and I must confess that I can’t begin to see his idea. If he just wants to get rid of us, he is going to a lot of trouble, because we aren’t going. On the other hand, is there something around there that he doesn’t want us to see or know it is going on?”
“That is something we’ll have to find out,” Buck answered. “I hope we find out soon, too, because this stuff is getting my goat. Well, I see that the boys are still around the fires. They must have received a pretty rough shock this time.”
As the two chums approached the group they noted that there were two distinct sections of it, one centering around Drummer and the other around Ralph Plum. They were strangely silent as the two leaders came in and no one asked a single question.
“Well, somebody likes to play jokes on us, and that Black Rider one was a good one,” smiled Ted.
“That wasn’t a joke, Thorn,” said Ralph Plum, quietly.