“Then let’s go!” suggested Jerry, and again they were on the trail after the kidnapers of Bill Cromley.
It was approaching evening and they had gone on steadily. They had passed through no more settlements, nor had they met other travelers or miners of whom they might inquire concerning Noddy’s crowd. But inasmuch as there had been no branch trail, it was assumed that those of whom they were in pursuit were not far ahead of them.
And this belief was made very plain a half hour later when, as they went down a slope, they saw four horsemen ascending the mountain on the other side of the valley.
“Look! There they are!” cried Jerry, pointing.
“I believe you’re right!” exclaimed Tinny. “Wait until I take a look through the glasses.”
He had his binoculars with him. Heretofore they had been used in fruitless gazing at the trail ahead for a possible sight of those in the lead. But no sooner had the miner put them to his eyes and focused them, than he cried out:
“That’s Nixon’s gang all right, and Bill is there, sitting on his horse! They see us, too!” he added quickly. “They’re going to make a dash for it!”
Even as he spoke the Motor Boys could see, with their unaided eyes, that there was some movement taking place in the ranks of the four horsemen. They could be seen urging their steeds up the steep trail.
Suddenly one of the riders was observed to detach himself from the others. He wheeled his animal about and came dashing down the trail in the direction of the following party.