Our hero knew that he was undertaking a risky thing, for he was quite sure that there was a band of outlaws located somewhere in the pass, or very near to it.
But he went on without any hesitation, prepared for anything that might turn up.
The place was totally strange to him, but the boy had confidence in the sorrel stallion he rode.
Spitfire would surely follow the horse that was ahead.
There was no mistake about that.
On went the dashing young deadshot, covering the ground rapidly.
He figured it that the storekeeper of Silver Bend was not going very fast, however, and when he thought he ought to be pretty close to him he brought his horse to a sudden halt and listened.
Wild had reckoned rightly, for he could hear the clatter of hoofs ahead.
"Ah!" he exclaimed, under his breath. "That was a pretty good guess. Another minute and I would have been right up chose to him—close enough for him to see me, perhaps. But I hardly think he has heard me, so I'll keep right on."
He set out again, keeping his horse at a walk.