same moment the old miner, who was beside him, did the same.
"What's up?" asked Tom Dillon, instinctively feeling for the pistol he carried.
"Our horses!" cried Dave. "They are running back on the trail!"
"Somebody is stealin' 'em!" roared Tom Dillon, and was on his feet on the instant.
By this time the noise had awakened Phil and Roger, and all three boys followed the old miner in arising. In the gray light of the morning they could see that their four horses were moving along the back trail on a gallop. A single man seemed to be in charge of them, on a steed of his own.
"Halt!" yelled Tom Dillon. "Halt, or I'll fire on you!" And he raised his pistol.
At this sharp command the man with the horses turned slightly to look back. He crouched low, and wore a sombrero pulled down well over his face. On the instant he rode to the front of the galloping steeds, thus getting out of range of the old miner's weapon.
"Come on, we must get our hosses!" sang out Tom Dillon, and started forward on the run. Then he let out a shrill whistle, one he knew was used for calling the animal he had been riding.
The effect of the whistle was all that could have been desired. The horse dropped to a walk
