The next morning saw them on the way again, and they had their first bit of good luck about ten o’clock. They passed through a small mining settlement, and there they learned that a party answering to the description of Noddy’s crowd had passed through about four hours previously.
“One of their horses has gone lame,” said Tinny, who had been making the inquiries. “They have to accommodate the pace of the swiftest to the slowest-going animal. They don’t seem to have the money to buy more horses. They’re almost at the end of their rope, boys!”
“Let’s push on fast and see if we can’t catch ’em before night!” cried Ned.
But to this Mallison objected.
“We’ve got to think of our own horses,” he said. “They’ve been pretty hard-pushed of late, and if we want them to stand up under the strain we’ve got to be easy with them. If they go lame it’s all off as far as the chase goes. Just a little patience, and we’ll have those rascals!”
“Besides, it’s near noon and we want to eat,” added Bob.
Accordingly, a halt was called at noon and the campfire made. They had bought some supplies in the little settlement where they had got the latest news of those of whom they were in pursuit, and by a stroke of good luck they had secured a chicken, which Bob fried most appetizingly.
“Best thing you ever did, Chunky!” called out Mallison, as he leaned back for a little rest after the meal.
“Glad you liked it,” was the modest rejoinder.
They were all taking a much-needed rest after their dinner, and the horses were cropping some grass when a noise in the bushes back of Ned, who was leaning against a rock, startled them all.