"Let's go out on the road," suggested Frank. "He'll leave if we start toward him."
"Yes; but I don't want that man to see us, for I don't know who he is."
"Well, he'll certainly see us if we allow this miserable cur to stay here and bark at us," returned Frank. "The first thing you know, his master will be back here to see what is up, and we'll be—— I declare! there he comes now."
Leon looked over the bushes and trembled in every limb when he saw the owner of the dog approaching.
He stopped by the side of the road, picked up a formidable-looking club, and after trying its strength by striking it on the ground, he hurried toward the thicket in which the runaways were concealed.
"Sick 'em, Maje—sick 'em!" he shouted. "Take hold of 'em, you rascal!"
Thus encouraged, the dog bounded into the bushes, and in a moment more would have seized Frank by the leg, had he not received a terrific punch in the ribs from Leon's double-barrel.
That took all the fight out of him. With a howl of anguish, he ran back to the road and took refuge behind his master, who halted very suddenly.
He looked first at the dog and then at the bushes, and finally he began to back off toward his wagon.
It was evident that he did not think it safe to advance any nearer to the thicket, but he seemed determined to find out what it was that had taken refuge there, for, after he had retreated a short distance, he stopped and began swinging his club around his head.