“That’s right,” assented Blake, hopelessly. “What can we do?”
“They probably didn’t know they were taking your films, boys,” spoke Hank, who had finished making fast the horses. “They very likely thought the boxes held some new kind of food, and they just grabbed up anything they could get their hands on. I reckon the beggars are nearly starving, and that’s what made ’em so bold. You’ll notice they didn’t once fire at us—only up in the air. They just wanted to scare us.”
“And they took our films, thinking they were something good to eat,” murmured Blake.
“Yes. I’m not saying, though, that they didn’t hope to stampede the animals; but they went wrong on that calculation, if they had it in mind.”
“They have our films,” continued Joe, in a sort of daze, so suddenly had the events of the last half-hour occurred. “What can we do?”
“Chase after ’em and get our stuff back!” exclaimed Blake, quickly. “I’m not going to stand that loss. They can have the grub if they want it, but I’m going to get back those films that we went to such trouble, and so much danger, to snap.”
“But how are you going to do it?” asked Joe.
“Start in pursuit!” cried his chum with energy. “Come on, Hank, you can follow an Indian trail; can’t you?”
“I sure can, when it’s as broad as the one they’ll be likely to leave. But not now.”
“Why not?” asked Blake.