Down the trail were coming ten or a dozen cowboys, spurring and lashing their horses and riding like mad in the direction the first rider had taken.
It was a thrilling sight, and the boys' hearts were beating like trip-hammers as they crouched lower behind their screen of bushes and took in every detail of the chase.
The riders reached the little river and plunged in without drawing rein. The water splashed high over horses and riders drenching them to the skin.
Through the shallows the horses struggled and climbed up the further bank. The trail left by the fugitive was broad and plain and the pursuers had no trouble in picking it up. Once more the cavalcade settled down into that swift, relentless pounding of hoofs, and a moment later had disappeared over a slight swell in the prairie.
The Fairview boys looked at each other with shining eyes. They had been eye witnesses of what promised to end in a tragedy.
"Do you think they'll catch him?" queried Bob in a voice that was shaking with excitement.
"They're sure to," answered George. "His horse had two to carry and the fellows after him had a horse apiece. A man can't get away under such odds unless he can throw his pursuers off his track."
"There doesn't seem much chance to do that," put in Frank. "The prairie seems open for miles."
"What do you suppose the fellow's done?" asked Bob.
"Maybe he killed a man and rode away with the man's wife or daughter," guessed Sammy; "and in some way or other the neighbors got wind of it and set out to get the girl back."