Читать книгу Frank Merriwell, Jr., in Arizona; or, Clearing a Rival's Record онлайн

64 страница из 92

“Hustle, Bleek,” he called. “There’s a fellow coming on a horse, and if we hurry we can head him off.”

“That’s the stuff!” answered Bleeker, getting into motion. “What sort of a looking fellow is he?”

“I couldn’t see anything but the top of his hat. There’s a ridge in the way, and he’s galloping along on the other side.”

The valley crooked in a half circle around the base of another hill, and Merry and Bleeker raced through it and came to the point where the ridge was broken. The thump of hoofs was growing louder and louder.

“He’s pretty near,” whispered Bleeker.

“He’s right on us,” Merriwell flung back, and jumped out from among the rocks.

He came within one of being trampled by the galloping hoofs, for he leaped almost under the horse’s nose. The animal snorted and reared back, while an exclamation of surprise came from its rider.

As soon as Frank could get his bearings, he gave a yell of surprise himself. The rider, as it proved, was none other than Barzy Blunt!