For several minutes Dave surveyed the distant landscape in vain. Then he uttered a cry.
"I see them, Roger! There they go!" And he pointed excitedly with his finger.
At a distance they could not calculate they saw Tom Dillon and the rascal he was after, and also the flying horses. They were all bounding along a rocky trail, the would-be horse thief well in advance. Suddenly they saw this individual make a turn and disappear around some rocks. The free horses kept on, with the old miner after them.
"That rascal has gotten away!" announced Dave. "He has given Mr. Dillon the slip."
"Dave, do you think Mr. Dillon will catch our horses?"
"Yes—sooner or later. They are bound to stop running, to feed or to drink, and then he'll round them up. I guess all we can do is to go down and wait for him to get back."
"But those shots! What if he is wounded!"
"I hope he isn't, Roger."
They climbed down to the camp and told Phil about what they had witnessed. Then all ate breakfast slowly, meanwhile discussing the adventure from all possible standpoints.
"It was one of the Blugg crowd, I feel certain of that," said Dave. "Perhaps it was Sol Blugg himself."