“We can’t leave you,” whimpered Bub.
“It’s the only way you can help me,” stoutly insisted Stanley.
Abner rubbed his chin thoughtfully and was silent for a few moments. Then to Bub’s surprise and Stanley’s joy he decided, “It’s the only thing to do. Nick will pass him by. We’ll blaze our trail with a little noise so he’ll follow us on the trot; then we’ll race him for the mountain. And once I git my hand on a cartridge—Wal!”
“Do you want my knife?” asked Bub, hungry to do something for Stanley.
“No; cut me a stout cudgel,” replied Stanley.
“I’ll fix ye a daisy,” said Abner, assailing an oak bough. This he deftly trimmed into a formidable club and then shaking Stanley’s hand turned abruptly away.
“I hate like sin to do it,” sobbed Bub. “Why can’t I stay with you?”
“No! no! If you would help, go,” urged Stanley. “If Nick caught a glimpse of Abner making it alone he would know we two were back here. If he sees the two he will take it for granted I am with you, or near you. Believe me, Bub, I run less danger than you do.”
A low whistle from Abner warned Bub he
