The outlaw pushed himself back, turned on his side and rose hastily to his feet. He had gone only a few yards, however, when Dick, somewhat recovered from the effects of the blow, sprang up in hot pursuit. The race was of short duration. A few moments later, Dick had seized the stocky runner by the nape of the neck and had jerked him to a sudden halt.
“Guess you’ll be ready to go back now,” gritted Dick. “Any more of your funny tricks and I won’t be responsible for what happens. Come on, now—get going!”
Sandy joined them a moment later. With the prisoner between them, they soon reached the trail. Toma and the two policemen came hurrying up.
“So he didn’t get away after all!” Sergeant Richardson exclaimed thankfully. “I’m mighty glad of that. But it’s my own fault. I should have known better than to give him this chance.”
“Either one of you hurt?” Rand inquired anxiously.
“No,” Dick replied. “We were shaken up a bit—all of us. But we’re ready to go on now.”
“Corporal Rand will take charge of the prisoner,” Richardson instructed. “I’ll lead the way alone.”
They pushed on again, following closely and silently the tall figure of the police sergeant. Without incident, they travelled another quarter of a mile. Each minute was bringing them closer and closer to the outlaws’ encampment. Unknown dangers lay ahead. Dick’s heart beat quickly at the thought of what might presently transpire.
A short time afterward Richardson called a halt. He hurried back to confer with Corporal Rand. Then he came forward to where Dick sat and announced briefly:
“Settlement Mountain just ahead. Two hundred yards from the outlaws’ cabin. Dismount quickly, tie your horses somewhere near here in the underbrush. Then come back for further orders.”