made the critter so bold," remarked Watson.
"They're afeered o' fire, jes' like most o' wild beasts."

"Oh, my, we forgot Slavin!" burst suddenly from Allen's lips. "I'll
wager a horse he has dusted out!"

"Ye're right," returned Watson, and began to make his way back to the
camp fire with all speed, and with Allen close beside him. Noel was too
weak to run and had to walk. He was still very white and his limbs
trembled under him because of the unusual excitement.

The camp fire gained, it needed but a single glance around to convince
them that Slavin had indeed gone.

"Took my shootin' iron, too, consarn him!" ejaculated Ike Watson. "What
fools we wuz ter leave him yere alone!"

"We saved Noel's life by the operation," answered Allen.

"Thet's so, too, but----"

"You hate to see him get away. So do I, and--Look!"

"What now?"

"He has taken one of the horses, too!"

Allen was right, the best of the horses was gone.

"He ain't got much o' a start," said Watson. "So let us git arfter him
hot-footed."

"I am with you on that, Watson; he must not get away under any
circumstances. If he does----"

"We won't be able to git on the trail o' yer uncle."

"That's it."

Both were soon in the saddle, and shouted back to Noel to keep the fire
burning and wait for their return. Then away they dashed into the
midnight darkness.

The storm still continued and the rain poured down with a steadiness
that was dismal enough to contemplate. But to the discomfort Allen gave
scant heed.

"He must not get away," he said, to himself, over and over again. "We
must capture him and make him take us to where the gang have Uncle
Barnaby a prisoner."

"Right ye air, Allen."

To follow a trail under such circumstances was not easy, yet they found
some tracks in the soft dirt directly in front of the cliff and these
led on the back trail and then to where there was a deep ravine between
the rocky slopes of the mountains.

Half a mile was covered and Watson called a halt.

"Ye want ter go slow yere," he cautioned, "I don't like the looks o'
this territory nohow."

"What is wrong with it?"

"Full o' holes, fer one thing, and water under the surface. We'll go
slow," and they did.

Occasionally it lightened and by the flashes of light they made out a
fringe of woods skirting the hollow. The wind was coming up and this
swept through the trees with a mournful sound.

They were moving with care when they heard a sudden yel