When they came to the spot where they thought the thieves had turned off, Roy pulled his horse to a halt.
“Think this is it?� he asked Teddy.
“I think so,â€� answered his brother. “We’ll take it—have to! Come on!â€�
As Teddy headed his horse off the trail and into the bush, he had a queer feeling that this was all a vivid dream—that he and Roy had been riding like this forever, on and on, mile after mile, over mountains and through valleys. Chasing—what was it they were chasing? Oh, yes! Flash! And Star and General! Why, of course. What was the matter with him? He shook his head savagely. Was he a tenderfoot that a ride like this should do him up? Why, he—around that fallen tree, you bronc you! Not over it! Suddenly swift realization came to Teddy. No wonder he felt weak! Here it was late afternoon, and he had not had anything to eat since breakfast!
“Feel all right, Roy?� he yelled, turning in his saddle.
“Yes—pretty good! Kind of hungry!â€�
“Me, too!�
The comparative safety of the trail had given way to a heavy tangle of underbrush which made the riding extremely dangerous. Still, the boys had for consolation the fact that it was as bad for the rustlers as it was for them.
Gradually it came to Roy that the chase was hopeless unless they could tell which way the thieves had gone. He motioned to Teddy to stop, and the two boys listened intently. There was no sound of cracking twigs, no noise of distant crashing of horses’ feet through the forest. All was silent.
“Seems like we’ve lost them,� Roy said, a note of despair in his voice.