“I think the best thing you can do, Ocker, is to go back to that camp and bring all of the duffel up here. Take Digby with you. Make it look as if the boys had been there and then moved on to some other place. That will set Tom Rover to guessing and give us a chance to make a clean get-away.”
“Now you’ve captured us, what do you intend to do with us?” questioned Jack. The blood was flowing down one of his cheeks, but he had no means of wiping it away.
“You’ll find out a little later,” answered Davenport.
“You kids are responsible for our dropping a lot of money down in the oil fields,” came from Jackson, with a sour look at the Rovers. “We calculate to get some of that money back.”
“Nothing happened to you but what you deserved,” retorted Fred.
“That’s your way of looking at it. We think differently,” growled Tate, and then he added: “We might as well be on the way. Longnose will be back here to-night most likely, and we’ll want to clean up before he comes.”
Bound as they were, the boys were helpless. One after another they were lashed fast to their horses and then the men brought forth their own steeds. The log cabin was put in order, the door closed, and the whole party rode off, Jackson in advance and Davenport bringing up the rear. Between them rode the four boys and Tate. All of the men carried guns, and Davenport had the pistol taken from Jack while Tate carried the one Fred had brought along.
“Well, I’m mighty glad of one thing,” said Randy to his twin, as they rode along a narrow trail leading into the mountains. “I’m glad that figure in the bunk was a dummy and not dad.”
“That’s right,” answered his brother quickly. “Gee! when I think of that story being a fake I’m almost satisfied to be a prisoner.”
“I wonder if we can’t ride away from them,” whispered the other.