A little after noon Rising, the sheriff, came whipping along the shore from the direction of the trail.
“Hello, there, Cody!” he shouted. “Here we are again, Hawkins and I. Some one brought word to us that you had captured Bascomb and Bernritter.”
“They’re not exactly captured, but the next thing to it, Rising,” the scout answered, as the sheriff and his deputy leaped out of the buckboard. “They’re on the island, out there, and the only way they can escape is by coming across that patent bridge.”
“Before we proceed any farther, you’d better tell me about it.”
Once more the scout sketched the important details of recent events.
“Well, I’ll be dinged!” muttered Hawkins, the deputy. “It only took Buffalo Bill a night an’ a day ter git next ter Bernritter’s game fer robbing the Three-ply an’ ter put ther kibosh on it, an’ only a day an’ a night ter rescue Annie McGowan an’ git Bascomb an’ Bernritter up a tree. What’s ther move, Rising? Shall we go across an’ hunt ther varmints out?”
“Let’s see if they won’t come ashore without making any trouble,” said Rising, stepping to the edge of the quicksands. Making a trumpet of his hands, he yelled: “Hello, out there!”
Three heads appeared above the boulders of the breastworks.
“Hello, yerself!” called Bascomb.