“Creel,” said Sandy, “there’s one thing I wish you’d explain. What are you doing here so far from the trail?”
“Trying to get away from that policeman,” came the answer. “I was on my way south to Peace River Crossing, when I met him on the trail. He had me cornered. He was sitting there on his horse, waiting for me. I could see that. But I gave him the slip. I dropped off my horse and ducked into the thick timber on the left side of the trail. I ran. I was sure that I could get away from him. I knew that no horse could follow me there. But he kept on my trail, and several times that night and today, I caught sight of him following me.”
Sandy’s voice broke the next interval of silence. “What’s to be done now?”
“I’m going over to the outlaws’ camp,” declared Dick with grim decision.
“But what will we do with Creel?”
“You can stay here and watch him.”
Sandy caught his breath.
“Do you mean to say you’d tackle ’em all alone, Dick? A terrible risk! They’d be sure to get you.”
“No, they’ll be too surprised to do anything. They won’t expect me.”
Sandy put one trembling hand to his face.