“The trains have gone,” whispered Malone. “Do you think the boy got aboard one of them?”
“No, I don’t,” answered his companion. “He is too determined a lad to give up so easily. He must be still looking for us.”
CHAPTER XXVIII.
FROM OUT OF A TREE.
CAVEN was right, Joe and his newly-made friend were still in the woods, doing their best to locate the two rascals.
They had found the trail but lost it in the patch of tall timber, and were gazing around when they heard the trains leaving the cut.
“There goes our outfit, friend,” said the westerner. “And there won’t be another train along for several hours.”
“It’s too bad, but it can’t be helped,” answered our hero. “But I’ll pay you for all time lost, Mr.–”
“Plain Bill Badger is my handle, stranger.”
“My name is Joe Bodley.”
“What about these two varmin you are after?”
“They were trying to rob a friend of mine of some mining shares,” answered Joe, and gave a few details.
“Well, I vow!” cried Bill Badger “That mine is close to one my dad owns. They say it ain’t of much account though.”
“Mr. Vane thinks it is valuable. He has had a mining expert go into the matter with great care.”
“Then that’s a different thing. Were you bound for the mine?”
“Yes, and so was Mr. Vane. We were on the train together when he was robbed.”
“I see. I was going out to my dad’s mine.”
“Then perhaps we can journey together– after we get through here,” said Joe.
“I’m willing. I like your looks. Shake.” And the pair shook hands.
Although a westerner, Bill Badger knew no more about following a trail than did our hero, consequently they proceeded on their hunt with difficulty.
“Reckon we’ve missed ’em,” said Bill Badger, a while latter. “Don’t see hide nor hair of ’em anywhere.”
“It’s too bad if they got away,” answered Joe. “Perhaps–What was that?”
The cracking of a tree limb had reached their ears, followed by a cry of alarm. A limb upon which Pat Malone was standing had broken, causing the fellow to slip to another branch below.
“Hush! don’t make so much noise!” said Caven, in alarm.
“Gosh! I thought I was going to tumble, out of the tree to the ground,” gasped Malone, when he could catch his breath.
“They are coming–I can see them,” whispered Gaff Caven. “Be as quiet as a mouse.”
In a moment more Joe and Bill Badger stood directly under the tree.
“I think the noise came from near here,” said Joe.
“I agree,” answered the westerner.
At that moment our hero looked up and saw a man’s arm circling a tree limb far over his head.
“They are up there!” he shouted.
“Sure?”
“Yes, I just saw one of them.”
“Then we’ve got ’em treed,” came with a broad grin from Bill Badger. “What’s the next turn of the game?”
“We have got to make them both prisoners.”
“All right. Have you got a shooting iron?”
“No, but I can get a club.”
“Then do it, and I’ll use this, if it’s necessary,” and the young westerner pulled a pistol from his hip pocket.
“I wish we had some ropes, with which to tie them,” continued Joe.
“Here’s a good big handkerchief.”
“That’s an idea. My handkerchief is also good and strong.”
“You do the pow-wowing and I’ll do the shooting, if it’s necessary,” said Bill Badger.
Joe looked up into the tree again but could see nobody.
“Caven!” he called out. “I know you are up there and I want you to come down.”
To this remark and request there was no reply.
“If you don’t come down we may begin to fire at you,” went on our hero.
“Oh, say, do you think he’ll shoot?” whispered Malone, in sudden alarm.
“No; shut up!” returned Caven.
“Are you coming down or not?” went on Joe,
Still there was no reply.
“I’ll give ’em a shot to warn ’em” said Bill Badger, and fired into the air at random.
“Don’t shoot me!” roared Pat Malone. “Please don’t! I’ll come down!”
“Well, you come down first. Caven, you stay up there for the present.”