“But there isn’t a tree round it, white or any other color,” objected Harry.
“I reckon that’s why they called it White Willow,” was the rejoinder, “so as folks lookin’ fer shade could take the mental treatment.”
As they neared the little settlement, beyond which lay some rugged foothills honeycombed with old mine shafts, the boys saw an automobile full of men dash out of the place and speed off westward across the plain.
“There they go!” shouted the sheriff. “Consarn ’em, they’ve given us the slip.”
“Not this time!” exclaimed Frank, as the auto came to a sudden stop.
Something had evidently gone wrong with it.
CHAPTER XIX.
ARRESTED BY AEROPLANE.
What had happened soon transpired as the men in the auto hastily jumped out and started to rip off the shoe of a rear tire.
“I guess a cactus thorn punctured them,” commented Harry.
“That’s just about what happened,” rejoined Frank.