“Yes. I looked everywhere. In the darkness, I could see nothing. I dare not call out for fear the outlaws might be close at hand. Richardson probably walked straight into the arms of one of La Qua’s sentries, was struck over the head and then dumped bodily into some thicket. It was a good thing for me that Richardson had the flashlight. I think I would have been tempted to use it.”
“Good heavens! What are we going to do?”
Sandy had recovered the use of his vocal organs and now poured out his plaint—a sort of wail that rang softly through the forest’s stillness.
“First Pearly and now Richardson!” groaned Dick.
“There! There!” Rand attempted to comfort them. “It’s a hard blow, I’ll admit, but we’ll contrive to get out of this scrape somehow. You boys will have to help me. I must rely on you. I can’t very well go on with this thing alone. Are you with me?”
“We are!” Dick and Sandy sang out in chorus.
“And you, Toma?”
“You bet! Fight ’em all same like mad wolf.”
“That’s the spirit. The first thing to do is to find out what has become of Richardson.”
The five minutes which passed before Rand spoke again seemed like an eternity to the three young adventurers.