"I couldn't keep up the pace with these beasts," he explained.
"Think the fellows had any chance?" asked Bob, eagerly.
Dave shook his head.
"I'm afraid not," he answered. "They had too good a start. Gracious, Bob, you're in a pretty mess!"
"Tom Smull is in a worse," said Bob, grimly. "How did you chaps manage to break away from Griffin?"
"Sam suddenly gave a terrible yell, hung over the side of his pony like a Mexican vaquero about to pick a handkerchief off the ground, and started suddenly. The rest of us—well—we felt sure Griffin wouldn't shoot—took our chances, anyway, and bolted after him."
"Bully for you! Say, it certainly makes me sick to think of that panther mixing in just at the wrong time."
"The worst kind of luck," groaned Dick. "What's to be done?"
"Make a great rush for the mine, and beat those fellows out. It's going to be a free-for-all race now."
"That's right," agreed Dick. "My, oh, my, but I do feel wild."