"Heap he'll care about that," he retorted, his, face growing glum.
However, at the Professor's direction, the prisoner was liberated. No sooner was this done than the fellow leaped to his feet and started to run.
"Catch him!" roared Lige.
Tad promptly stuck out a foot. The mountaineer tripped over it, measuring his length on the ground. Lige jerked the fellow to his feet and stood him against a tree, the thief becoming suddenly meek when he found himself looking along the barrel of a large six-shooter.
"I reckon you can run now, if you want to," grinned the guide suggestively.
"Admonish him," urged the Professor.
"Now, you see here, fellow," said Lige in a menacing tone, "you've struck a rich find tonight. Next time, I reckon you won't get off so easy. I've got you marked. I'll find out what your brand is, then I'll tell the sheriff to be on the lookout for you. Now, you hit the trail as fast as your legs'll carry you. If I catch you up to any more tricks—well, you know the answer. Now, git!"
And the late prisoner did. One bound carried him almost out of camp. The boys shouted derisively as they heard him floundering through the bushes as he hastily made his escape.
"Where is Walt? Did he go hack to bed?" asked Tad, after the excitement had subsided.
"To bed? No; he followed you," replied Stacy Brown.