“What? What? Oh, you—”
Bob looked at them, the battle lust dying in his eyes, and recognition dawning. It was followed by a wide grin.
“Oh, it’s you.”
“Bob, old thing, that was the greatest fight in history,” cried Frank, hysterically, clapping his chum on the back.
“Never saw the like,” said Jack, doing likewise. “Thank God, Bob, you’re alive.”
“Never was more alive in my life,” said Bob. “Hey, they’re running away.”
He darted away from his chums and sprang downhill. True enough. The two whom he had disposed of first, who had dropped out of the fight, had gained their feet and were running madly through the trees.
Jack ran after Bob and restrained him.
“Let them go, Bob. They are alone. There are three others here we must tie up before they come to.”
Bob followed him back to where Frank was bending over the man whom the big fellow had tossed over his head. The half-breed was recovering consciousness, and beginning to moan.