“Then they’ll pull up inside of ten minutes,” announced Adrian; “because they’ll have reached Bittersweet Coulie by then.”
“You ought to know the place right well; and how would it answer for a hide-out, where they could keep the cattle till they’d given every one the Walker brand?” Donald wanted to know.
“All they’d have to do would be to drive them in, and then hang out around the neck of the bottle;
for the coulie is so narrow at the mouth it can be closed as easy as anything,” was the reply Adrian made.
“Then take it from me that’s the place we’re going to bring up at, Ad.”
“The sooner the better,” Adrian told him.
“Ditto!” came in a grunt from the rear; for Billie liked to let people know he was alive, and able to enter into the game, as well as the next one.
Gradually they kept pulling in their ponies, because it was plain to understand that they were drawing up on those whom they pursued. The sound of yells came very distinctly to their ears, and Donald was even able to tell the shouts of one puncher from those of his mates; so that his former impression that there could not be more than a quartette of the rustlers was confirmed.
The two who led the chase were fully aware of the tremendous task they had undertaken. They did not lightly dash into this thing as though it would turn out to be a regular picnic. But Adrian was so filled with anger and indignation, over being made a witness to his own loss of valuable stock, that he was ready to take considerable risk in order to attempt their recapture.
As for Donald, he had all his life been raised in just such an atmosphere of daring, and it was not so remarkable that he should throw himself into this hazard heart and soul.