"He can't git away from us," said old man Dumble.
Looking at him, my suspicions took flight. He was, as Ajax said,
keener than we to arrest the thief. His small eyes sparkled with
excitement; his right index-finger was crooked, as if itching for the
trigger; his lips moved. In fancy he was rehearsing the "Stand and
deliver" of an officer of the law!
"We kin ride him down," he muttered.
"Yes," said Ajax.
We looked to our girths and our pistols. It was unlikely that the
thief would show fight, but--he might. Then we mounted, and galloped
ahead.
"Forrard--for-r-rard!" shouted Ajax.
Within a few minutes, a quarter of an hour at most, the man we were
hunting would see us; then the chase would really begin. He would
abandon the footsore colts, and make for the hills. And so it came to
pass. Presently, we saw the horseman turn off at right angles; the
jaded colts hesitated, trotted a few yards, and stood still. A faint
neigh floated down wind.
"Doggone it!" exclaimed old man Dumble, "his horse is fresh. He's got
friends in the hills."
We had left the trail, and were pounding over the sage-brush desert.
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