“I don’t see it,” declared Donald, “but, even if there is, all we have to do is to keep our eyes and ears open. We have the law on our side.”
“Looks like mighty little law to me,” replied Billie, who, for some reason or other insisted upon looking on the dark side. “But, to change the subject, what do you call that?” and he pointed away to the south, where a cloud of dust was to be seen.
“Looks as though it might be a herd of cattle.” said Donald, after a moment’s inspection. “Although,” he added, after further observation, “it would be a mighty small one.”
“They certainly make a lot of dust,” was Adrian’s comment, followed in a moment with: “Look! Look! It’s a race! It’s a race!”
A race it certainly was, in which something less than half a dozen horsemen were engaged, and the boys drew rein to watch it.
At the first glance it did not appear to be very exciting, as one of the riders was so far in advance that there seemed very little chance for any of the others. But, as the boys watched the flying horsemen, it slowly dawned upon Donald that there was something wrong.
“By George!” he suddenly exclaimed, “I don’t believe it’s a race at all. It looks to me as though there were three trying to catch one, and I don’t think it’s for any good purpose.”
“I believe you’re right, Don; and, look,” exclaimed Adrian, “they’re headed this way!”
That the boys were right was fully evidenced as the flying horsemen approached. The pursuers
seemed to be men, while the fugitive was a lad of about the same age as our travelers.