For a minute no one made a move to accept the captain’s offer, and then with: “Come on, John,” Ree Kingdom waited no longer. In a twinkling the boys unharnessed the horses, leaving only the bridles on them, and were mounted. Tom Huson, the blacksmith and Peter Piper, a half-breed Indian, a sort of roustabout in the neighborhood, had also hurriedly prepared to join in the chase.
“Take my twins, lads, they bite as hard as they bark,” called Captain Bowen, passing his brace of pistols up to Ree and John, and in another moment the party was galloping in pursuit of the big fellow whose crime might yet be murder, Dr. Cartwright having reported that only time could tell.
“Who-ho-ho-ho-ho!” John Jerome could not resist the temptation to give an Indian war-whoop. There is an exhilaration in a rapid ride by moonlight at any time, and with the clatter of the hoofs of a half dozen horses upon the beaten road, the forms of other riders, shadowy and ghost-like on either side to lend a feeling of companionship, and a knowledge of danger’s presence to make every sense the more alert, there is no finer excitement. Little wonder is it that John could not repress a yell, and though of a much quieter disposition, Ree felt like shouting, also.
“Who-ho-ho-ho!” John yelled again, a half hour later, and the women and children ran to the door of a house they were passing to see who it might be that was dashing by at such breakneck speed. The air came soft and cool to the riders half hidden in the shadows of the trees which bordered the road, though the moon was shining gloriously.
“We will send you on ahead to tell Pete we are coming, if you are so fond of making it known, youngster,” exclaimed the constable as John gave still another whoop.
“He’d have a cat fit if he knew you were after him, I’ll wager,” the boy answered, nettled by the man’s sarcasm. “Suppose I do ride on and let him know.”
John leaned back and slapped his horse’s flank. The animal, scarcely more than a colt, sprang forward at great speed. At the same time the young rider raised up on his knees, then on his feet and keeping his balance with seeming ease, standing nearly erect, the horse running its fastest, he held the reins in one hand, waved his hat in the other, and again yelled like an Indian.
“That young dare-devil will kill himself one of these days,” said the blacksmith. “That colt of Captain Bowen’s is likely to take it into her head to bring up short at any minute. Better call him back, Kingdom.”
Ree had no fear that his friend could not take care of himself, but in answer to the suggestion, he gave a shrill, peculiar whistle which made the woodland ring. Like a shot John dropped to a sitting posture as he heard the call, and in another minute Ree had ridden up beside him. Before either could speak, a black object loomed up in the narrow road and they had barely time to rein their horses in before they were upon it, the animals leaping sidewise to avoid a collision.
“Big Pete’s wagon, sure as shooting! It’s broken down!” ejaculated Ree.