“Guess he came a cropper,” Jack cried. “But don’t let up.”
“Bet your life we won’t,” Bob called back.
For another ten minutes they made the best speed possible down the mountain. Then Bob stopped and for a moment they listened.
“Guess he gave it up after that tumble,” Jack declared.
“Looks that way,” Bob agreed, “but we better make ourselves as scarce as possible. They may know of a short cut down the mountain and try to cut us off.”
After a short rest they started off again in the general direction of the dam, making as fast time as they could through the thick underbrush which covered the ground. Although they felt fairly confident that their pursuers had given up the chase they took no unnecessary chances of a surprise, but were on their guard every minute. That the men were thoroughly familiar with the lay of the land they had little doubt, but as they approached the entrance of the gorge leading up to the dam, and had neither seen or heard anything suspicious, they began to breath more easily.
Finally they reached the dam itself and to their great joy, saw the motor boat from the camp, tied up to the little wharf.
“Hurrah!” Jack shouted. “We don’t have to hike it home.”
“And there’s Jacques,” Bob added as he spied the man coming from the house of the keeper of the dam.
“Whar you tink you was, eh?” the breed asked as soon as he was within speaking distance.