"Come on, we must get our hosses!" sang out Tom Dillon, and started forward on the run. Then he let out a shrill whistle, one he knew was used for calling the animal he had been riding.
The effect of the whistle was all that could have been desired. The horse dropped to a walk and then turned back. And as Tom Dillon continued to whistle, the intelligent steed came closer and closer, until the old miner was able to grasp it by the halter.
But all this had taken valuable time, and meanwhile the other horses continued to gallop on, led by the man in front, who was now riding like the wind. Who he was they could not make out, but they strongly suspected Sol Blugg or one of his cronies.
"I'd shoot if them hosses wasn't in the way!" cried Tom Dillon, wrathfully.
"Can't you go after them?" asked Dave and Roger, in a breath.
"I can and I will!" answered the old miner. "Stay right here till I get back!" And with those words he saddled his horse with all speed, and in less than a minute later was flying down the back trail after the stolen steeds and the rascal who was making off with them.
CHAPTER XIX
THE NEWSPAPER CLEW
"Do you think he'll catch that fellow?"