“Here it is,” cried a voice above them, and Dick Darrell jumped down from the shelf above still clutching the stones in his hands. CHAPTER VII. CAPTURED BY MUDD. “Great guns! The Darrell boy!” gasped Martin Mudd, as Dick boldly faced the three men. “Help! Oh, save me from this fellow!” screamed Clara. Dick threw up his right hand and let one of the stones fly. That was the time Martin Mudd came near seeing his finish. If he had not dodged the stone he would have got it alongside the head. Dick followed up with the other stone, but that was a miss also and before he could show any further fight Tony and Bill Struthers rushed upon him. The case looked desperate then. Clara Eglinton, terribly frightened, urged her horse on up the hill. “Don’t kill him! Hold him till I come back, Tony!” shouted Mudd, starting up the trail after the horse. “Yes, hold me if you can get me!” cried Dick, whipping out his revolver. “Now, then, slope, you scoundrels! Slope or I’ll make short work of you both.” The men dodged back. Bill Struthers vaulted upon his horse and clashed away up the trail. “Cowards!” snarled Tony, throwing up his hands. “I surrender, young feller. They have both deserted me. I’m not going to do this act alone.” “Throw down your gun, then, and your knife, too, if you have one,” retorted Dick. “I don’t trust your kind.” Tony flung a revolver at Dick’s feet. “Now the knife.” “Hain’t got one.” “I know better. Throw it down or I’ll make a finish of you--do you hear?” Tony pulled out a long knife and flung it upon the ground by the revolver. Then, as Dick stooped to pick them up he improved the opportunity to take to his heels and run like a deer up the trail. “By gracious, they are a sweet lot of cowards!” exclaimed Dick. “Never saw their equal. What in the world shall I do about that girl, though? Strange that I should meet her again away out here. I can’t imagine what it means.” He was hurrying along up the trail as these thoughts flashed over him, for he had no notion of deserting Clara Eglinton, in spite of the fact that she had deserted him. There was evidently trouble ahead for himself, too, unless he could keep out of the way of the man Mudd. More puzzled than ever to know what it all meant, Dick made the best time he could up the trail, but his wet clothes seemed to hold him back and it seemed to him that he had never run so slow as he was running now. For a few moments he could hear the clatter of the horses’ hoofs upon the stony trail and once he heard Mudd give a shout. Then, after a few moments of silence, other horses were heard--there seemed to be several of them. Then the sounds suddenly died away and all was still. Dick followed on, a good deal perplexed. He had no idea where the trail was going to lead him, but he knew enough about the Bad Lands to be quite well aware that to be lost in them meant simply death.