"Evidently," Tom said to Tim, "that fellow hasn't made himself popular with the men."
"Nor would I, mesilf, already yet," replied Tim, "if it wasn't to our very bist interists."
"Well, we'll have to make the best of it for awhile," returned Tom. "We'll do more good right here than anywhere else I can think of."
The men had by this time finished their arrangements, and with some parting jokes and laughing remarks the ten selected men who were to take the back trail strung out the horses in line and leading and driving them at the same time were soon out of sight winding along the twisting log road. Only the sound of their shouts to the horses and the crashing in the underbrush could be heard and finally even that grew fainter and died away in the distance.
The remainder of the company, some fifty-odd men and the officers, gathered up their burdens and arms, fell into place two by two and were soon strung out over a hundred yards of rough mountain trail.
"We are after them in earnest, now," said Tom Dare, softly, "and no matter what happens, Tim, old man, don't let them find us out and don't let them ever get near enough to Dick and Fritz to capture them."
"Thot's a foine little job for us two in this crowd," said Tim, "but we'll do our very best and it won't be our own fault at all, at all, if anything goes wrong."
"Things are going to go right," concluded Tom, "I feel it in my bones."