"There, by the ponies. Give it to him!" cried Jake.
"Stop, you fools!" thundered the leader. "Do you want to kill the bronchs? Get after him. What are you standing there like a lot of dumbheads for?"
"I see him. I kin pink him," yelled one of the four.
"I said go after him. Not a shot in that direction!" commanded
Bluff.
Tad bad caught a glimpse of the ponies.
"I'm going to try it," he breathed.
No thought of wrong entered his mind. He was about to take a horse that did not belong to him. He knew his life was at stake and that having overheard their plans he would be sure to suffer were he to fall into their hands.
"It's not stealing. It's just fighting them on their own ground," gasped the boy, tugging desperately at the stake rope in an effort to free the first pony he came to.
The leash resisted all his efforts.
Out came the lad's jack knife. One sweep and the rope fell apart. They had discovered him. Every second was precious now. He was thankful that the men had removed neither bridles nor saddles, though he knew the bit was hanging from the animal's mouth.