"That's true," said Robert Menden. "Can it be possible that Bob has been carried off by Farvel and his tools."
"It looks that way," said Leander. "The question is, what have they done with our chum?"
All stared blankly at each other. Then Don got down on his knees and began another examination.
"If I was an Indian I might follow this trail," he said; "but as it is, I fancy I am not equal to it."
"If only Dash was here," sighed Leander. "What can have become of that dog? Dash! Dash!"
The call was followed by several others. At last came a short, suppressed bark from a neighboring thicket. Instantly Don and Leander made a run in that direction, and arrived just in time to see a big black fellow running away.
"Stop, or I'll fire at you!" cried Don, and pulled his pistol; but in a second more the fellow was out of range behind several trees.
The native had been sent forward to kill the canine, Farvel feeling certain that otherwise Dash would be used to locate his captive master.
The native had been in the act of firing at Dash, when Leander and Don appeared.
As it was, Dash was limping painfully from a slight wound in the fore-shoulder.