Lunging forward, they tackled the bandit below the knees. He went down, and in the brief but fierce struggle, they succeeded in knocking the weapon from his hand.
With the agility of a jungle cat, Carlos squirmed from Jack’s grasp. Slipping back into the foliage, he was swallowed by the darkness.
Jack groped and finally found the lost weapon. He started in pursuit.
“Let him go,” ordered Mr. Livingston, who had emerged into the circle of flickering firelight. “We can’t possibly overtake him, and it’s risky to try. He’ll have a horse tethered somewhere near.”
As the Scouts listened, they heard the bold bandit’s retreating footsteps. Then all became silent in the forest.
“What if he comes back later, maybe with some of his followers?” War asked anxiously.
“We have his gun, so I don’t think he’ll be back tonight,” Mr. Livingston replied. “Good work, Jack! I thought you and Ken would react as you did! Any of our stuff missing?”
The Scouts took careful inventory. In his haste to escape, the bandit had left behind all the cash and jewelry.
“I doubt Carlos will try another raid tonight, knowing we’ll be on the alert,” Mr. Livingston commented. “All the same, we’ll set up a guard.”
The incident was more disturbing to Jose than to the Scouts. For hours after the bandit had gone, he huddled in his blanket, his back to a tree, fearfully watching the shadows.