“He’s got a single-shot, old-fashioned rifle,” declared Texas Jack.
“That’s what is saving our lives,” returned his comrade.
“He’s ahead of us—between us and the lake.”
“We’ve got to try to capture him, then,” declared Cody firmly. “No use mincing matters. The fire is bad enough, but he is more dangerous.”
“Reckon you’re right, Buffler,” grunted Texas Jack.
The scouts separated, running several rods apart, so that the Mad Hunter might not be able to get them both in a line. And, if that were possible, they increased their pace. They heard the man crashing through the brush ahead, but they did not obtain another glimpse of him. And so phenomenal was his speed that soon he was out of ear-shot. Besides, the roaring of the flames and the crashing of falling trees interfered with their tracking of the madman by his footsteps.
Their enemy ran as no human being ever ran before, for he got far enough ahead to load his old-fashioned gun and again await their coming. This time he took a shot at Texas Jack and sent that worthy’s hat spinning into the air.
“Confound his hide!” roared the scout. “Pepper him, Bill!”
But with a scream of rage the madman was off through the illuminated forest once more, and Cody’s shots did not overtake him. Besides, the light was so uncertain that the scout did not waste but two balls in the attempt to bring down the foe.
“He’ll git one of us yet,” cried Texas Jack.