Not a sound came from Teddy. Deliberately he raised his gun. There was a roar that echoed amid the canyon’s walls, proving its name, and the fleeing rider crumpled in the saddle. The next moment he slid to the ground, and the horse, free of its burden, dashed along the trail, to disappear around the bend.
Teddy quickly dismounted.
“I hated to do it, but I had to,” he said sadly. “You boys know I had to. I hope I didn’t—”
He bent over the form on the ground. As he touched the man’s arm a savage cry arose, and the figure came to life with a suddenness that sent Teddy staggering back, a dark stain on the boy’s face showing where the closed fist had struck.
“He’s all right,” Teddy said shortly, wiping the blood from his cheek. “Sit up, you! Another break and I’ll shoot off your head instead of your arm! Sit up now!”
Muttering under his breath, the man obeyed. He swayed where he sat, cuddling his arm, a look of anguish on his face. But the boys were in no mood for sympathy. There was other business on hand—business that must be transacted quickly.
“Going to answer the question?” Roy demanded, leaning over his horse and gazing at the form on the path.
“What question?” the man groaned.
“Where are those girls you brought from the 8 X 8?”
“I tell yuh I—” The grim Colt menaced his head, and the man shrank back. “Gimme time! I’m tryin’ to tell yuh, ain’t I! They’re in—”