“Then there’s no use chasing after ’em any farther,” said Hank. “Hold on, Joe,” for the boy was pushing on.
The horses of the pursuers were pulled down to a walk. The Indians noticed this at once, and, seeming to realize that the chase was over, they halted, and, turning, gazed in a body at the moving picture boys and their cowboy guide.
“Had enough, I reckon,” murmured Hank. “I guess you can’t go on much farther. Well, we’ll turn back a ways and put some miles between us, so you won’t try any of your tricks again, and then we’ll go into camp ourselves. Got everything, Blake?”
“Yes, every reel of film, and not one has been opened, by good luck. Maybe they thought it was powerful ‘medicine,’ and didn’t want to run any chances.”
“We don’t care, as long as we have ’em back,” remarked Joe, gleefully. “And now for a good rest.”
They turned back, and as they did so the Indians gave a last shout of defiance and began to make camp for themselves. It was as if a lot of schoolboys, playing truant, had been rounded up, and as a last indication of defiance had given their class yell.
“Good riddance to you,” remarked Hank. “I don’t want to see you again for a good many years.”
Collecting the things the Indians had thrown away, our friends rode on until dark, and then, out of sight of the roving redmen, they made a simple camp. They stood guard by turns, but there was no night alarm. The next day they reached the place where they had picketed the pack animals. Nothing had been disturbed.
“And now for Big B ranch!” exclaimed Blake, when once more the little cavalcade was under way.
“And glad enough I’ll be to see it!” said Hank; “though I sure will miss you fellows.”