Suddenly, in a wide opening of the forest-clad plateau, they caught sight of a number of horsemen ahead. It was Marsh and his companions, but they got out of sight so quickly that Dorothy could not be sure that Aunt Winnie was with them.
The cowboys broke into yells of excitement. The ponies dashed forward, and whether the girls would, or no, they were borne at a desperate pace right up the trail after the other flying squadron of horses.
“Isn’t it great?” yelled Tavia, as she rode knee to knee with Dorothy.
“I think it is dreadful,” gasped Dorothy.
But Tavia seemed to be enjoying the race to the full. And it was a race now. Philo Marsh had seen them coming, and without doubt he would try to do what he had to do, and get it over with, before the pursuers overtook him.
If the dynamite was ready set, and he could explode it before the pursuers reached the spot, nothing could put Lost River back into its course again.
Again and again Dorothy and her companions came in sight of the party ahead, but the glimpses they obtained were for a moment only.
“They’ve got some hoss-flesh thar,” commented Lance Petterby. “And they warn’t as fresh in the beginnin’ as ourn—that’s sartain. They been punishin’ of ’em some, by Jerusha Juniper!”
“I—don’t—see—how—Aunt—ie—can ride so fast!” stammered Dorothy.
“She never did before,” repeated Nat.