"You're on," cried Jack, spurring his horse.
"Attaboy," yelled Bob, doing likewise.
With a shout that shattered the silence as if a band of wild Indians
were hitting the trail, the three boys dashed away.
Presently they pulled up by the rock, practically neck and neck. Their
eyes were alight now with the zest of adventure.
"Gee, it's great to be alive," cried Frank.
"You said it," declared Bob.
Jack nodded laughingly, but the next moment his face became grave.
"Just the same," he said, "we mustn't do that again."
"Why not?" demanded Bob.
"Well, for one thing, we must save our horses as much as possible. We
already have come twenty miles, and we have thirty miles more to go
before reaching Tom's cave."
"For one thing?" questioned Bob. "What's your other reason?"
"Just that we don't want to draw attention to ourselves."
"You're right, Jack," said Frank. "I'll not start anything again."
They jogged on.
A martial trio they made. Jack was clothed in the khaki shirt, riding
breeches, high laced leather boots and sombrero in which he had met
the boys on their arrival at Ransome. Bob and Frank were similarly
outfitted. Tom Bodine was about of Bob's proportions, and his partner
Dave Morningstar had the build of the slighter Frank.
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