"If that is one of Ford's men, our goose is cooked," snarled one of them.
"Well, it is, right enough. Don't you remember hearing about the kid Ford gave his dog to?"
Too well did they remember, for the story of Bob's call at the ranch had traveled far and wide.
"What's to be done, then?" asked the first speaker.
"Get him!" growled the others.
So well did these men understand one another that no explanation of this remark was necessary, and without more ado they hastened to the stable back of the saloon, ordered their horses, and were soon riding after Bob at top speed.
Anticipating that he would be chased, the boy had urged Firefly into a mad gallop, desirous of getting as long a start as possible. And well it was that he did, for so mettlesome were the horses of the conspirators that, despite the start the loungers had, they quickly overhauled them.
"Which way did he go?" demanded the ringleader, as he rode alongside.
"To Ford's."
"What's wrong? What did he do? How much did he get?" demanded others of the volunteer posse.