“Ned and Don must have rescued the professor,” said Jim to Terry.
“You never mind what happened!” growled Abel, in such a manner that they knew their guess was correct. “Get your horses and come on!”
“Where are you taking us?” asked Terry.
“Mind your own business,” snapped Sackett. “Gather up your junk and hurry up about it.”
“I see,” nodded Terry. “I’m going somewhere and it isn’t any of my business where! And Jimmy, my boy, all this nice equipment that Ned gave us is just junk!”
“Quit your talking,” commanded Abel. “We have no time to lose.”
In silence the two boys gathered up the blankets and the camping kits, strapped them on the horse under the watchful eye of the mate, and then mounted. Sackett whistled and Manuel appeared, leading three horses. The outlaws sprang into the saddle and Abel took the lead, the other two hemming in the boys from the rear. Abel turned his horse’s head down the mountain and toward the sea.
“Too doggone bad we didn’t keep a sharper lookout,” Terry grumbled.
Jim shrugged his shoulders. “Perhaps, but I don’t know. These fellows were running from Don and Ned, and their falling in on us was an accident. We’ll have to keep our eyes open and see if we can give them the slip.”
The horses picked their way down the mountain expertly, and they had worked several miles to the southward before they rode out on the open plain. Daylight was now not far off, and they went on in silence, both parties keenly awake to the slightest movement of the other. When daylight did break over the plain they were miles from the mountain and almost to the sea. There had been no chance to make a break and Terry and Jim resigned themselves to their fate.