hey could not calculate they saw Tom Dillon and the
rascal he was after, and also the flying horses. They were all bounding
along a rocky trail, the would-be horse thief well in advance. Suddenly
they saw this individual make a turn and disappear around some rocks.
The free horses kept on, with the old miner after them.

"That rascal has gotten away!" announced Dave. "He has given Mr. Dillon
the slip."

"Dave, do you think Mr. Dillon will catch our horses?"

"Yes--sooner or later. They are bound to stop running, to feed or to
drink, and then he'll round them up. I guess all we can do is to go
down and wait for him to get back."

"But those shots! What if he is wounded!"

"I hope he isn't, Roger."

They climbed down to the camp and told Phil about what they had
witnessed. Then all ate breakfast slowly, meanwhile discussing the
adventure from all possible standpoints.

"It was one of the Blugg crowd, I feel certain of that," said Dave.
"Perhaps it was Sol Blugg himself."

Slowly the morning wore away. When the sun came up it was very hot and
the youths were glad enough to draw into the shade of the rocks. Just
before noon all three climbed the tall rock again, to look not only for
Tom Dillon and the horses, but also for Abe Blower and those with him.

But not a soul was in sight, nor did any horses show themselves. At a
distance they made out some mule deer and several goats, but that was
all.

"Do you think we ought to walk along the back trail?" asked Roger, when
they were getting lunch. "Mr. Dillon may need our services."

"I'll go if you want me to, Roger," answered our hero. "But he was a
good distance away when we saw him through the glasses."

"Let us wait awhile--until the awful heat of the midday sun is over,"
suggested Phil. "The sunshine just now is enough to give one a
sun-stroke."

It was a little after three o'clock when the three lads prepared to walk
along the back trail, on the lookout for the old miner. But just as they
started Dave put up his hand.

"Listen!"

All did so, and from a distance heard the clatter of horses' hoofs on
the rocky trail. Then came a cheery call.

"It's Mr. Dillon!" cried Roger, and let out a call in return, and the
others did likewise.

Soon the old miner appeared around a bend of the trail. He was seated on
his own steed and driving the others in front of him. He looked tired
out, and the horses looked the same.

"Are you all right, Mr. Dillon?" sang out