"We certainly can follow this one," retorted Horace hotly. "And we can always find our way back. Just tell mother we shall join father."
In vain the driver of the grub wagon endeavored to dissuade the lads, but the thought of taking part in the pursuit of the raiders, after all, made them deaf to all his arguments, and at last Horace exclaimed impatiently:
"You are only delaying us, Ned. I say you are to return to the ranch. That settles it. Larry and Tom and I are going to take the trail." And, without further ado, he shook out his pony and headed for the mountains, the two brothers at his side.
The pace at which Horace rode was terrific, and because of the hot sun, the horses were soon covered with lather.
"Look here, we've got to go at a slower gait," announced Larry. "If we keep up this clip, our ponies will give out. They can't stand it and the heat, too. And if they do give out, it will be sure to be just at the very time we need them most."
"But we'll soon be in the mountains, and then it will be cooler," asserted Horace. "I want to overhaul the raiders before night. Won't father and the others feel small when they learn that we three, whom they left behind because we were too young, have rounded up Megget?"
"You don't mean to say that you intend for us three to tackle the raiders alone?" exclaimed Tom.
"Why not?"
"Because we wouldn't stand one chance in a thousand—no, nor in ten thousand—of being able to capture them. We don't know the trail at all, and they probably are familiar with every rock and turn in it. If they should discover that we were pursuing them, all they would need do would be to lie in wait for us and capture us when we came along."
The truth of what the younger of the chums said was so evident that even the impetuous Horace was forced to admit it.