“I wish I had a gun with me,” said Alex in a rage. “I’d teach that robber better manners!”
“Come here, Joe!” Jule exclaimed. “I don’t think he is seriously hurt,” he added, as Joe came limping to his side.
“Find out as quick as you can,” advised Alex, “while I see that the men in front keep in the underbrush. They won’t hold the position long.”
As the man who had ordered them to throw up their hands did not appear, the outlaws were already growing suspicious. They cast inquiring glances at each other and moved about restlessly.
In the meantime Jule was making as close an examination of the dog’s wound as it was possible to make under the circumstances.
“There’s an ugly cut in his side, but that will soon heal,” he reported. “The thing to do now is to get away from here—quick! We are without weapons, and the outlaws will soon begin to smell a rat. They are getting suspicious already, and the fellow Joe bit is prowling about with blood in his eye.”
Owing to the underbrush which obstructed the view, the fellow could not locate the boys for a moment, but he was soon on the trail, vowing vengeance at every bound. Of course the boys took to their heels, but the blood from the dog’s side furnished a clew which was not to be mistaken.
“Something must be done or the man will catch us!” Alex panted. “Suppose you try Peter Pratt again?”
“Nothing doing!” Jule answered. “Do you want the other outlaws to know that they have been tricked?”
“That’s a fact,” replied Alex. “They would know that the man had shifted his position, even if they did not suspect trickery. But something must be done and done quick! Poor old Captain Joe is nearly all in.”