"Are you wounded, Joe?" he asked in anguish; "did they get you?"
"No, no," the boy sprang to a sitting position. "I'm not hurt—only stunned—but Princess—Nina—did they take her? Did they get away with her?"
Joshua Peniman averted his eyes and his voice was hoarse and shaken. "Yes," he answered reluctantly, "they got her. You did the best you could to save her, and I was just too late."
The boy staggered to his feet.
"I must go after her—I must find her," he cried, then reeled dizzily.
His father half led, half carried him into the house.
"You are hurt—you are not able to go," he said, pushing him into a chair. "And besides, you could never catch them now, Joe. They have half an hour the start of you, and they have swift ponies——"
Joe sprang to his feet. "I must go, Father—I must! I must find her—I must bring her back—Princess, Princess!" and collapsing into the chair he fell over insensible.
His father, who was a good deal of a doctor and nurse, bathed his wounded head and gave him a simple stimulant. Presently he opened his eyes. He sat up, gazed wildly about, then sprang up with a white, determined face.
"I'm going to find Princess, Father," he said in a tone that was not to be disputed. "I must—we can't leave her in the hands of that—that scoundrel. I'm all right now, I can ride Kit——"