They could hear the girls uttering cries of alarm.
Grace wheeled like a flash, but she did not run. Instead, she uttered a peal of laughter.
“Oh, that is too bad,” she cried, suddenly changing her tone.
“What is it? What is it?” demanded Hippy.
“Nothing worth worrying about. The old stagecoach got away from Mr. Fairweather while he was turning it, and it went over the edge of the trail into the canyon, that’s all. Listen! You will hear it strike the bottom in a few seconds.”
“There she goes! Good-bye, old Deadwood,” added Grace as a distant crash was borne faintly to their ears.
“Now we surely are in a fix,” groaned Lieutenant Wingate.
CHAPTER V
WANTED BY THE SHERIFF
“WATCH the prisoners, Hippy! Anybody hurt?” called Grace as she came running to the scene of the disaster.