But the strong arm of the law was apparently under its pillow in
delicious slumber. Not a snag did those bloody fugitives encounter in
their flight.

At last the car slowed down and Pee-wee could feel that it was turning
into another road. His unwitting captors were evidently either nervous
or sleepy, for they talked but little.

The car proceeded slowly now, and when our hero ventured to steal a
quick glimpse from under his covering he perceived that they were going
along a road so dark and narrow that it seemed like a leafy tunnel. The
somber darkness and utter silence of this sequestered region made the
deed of these outlaws seem all the blacker. There was now no doubt
whatever of the criminal nature of their bold enterprise. For surely no
law-abiding, civilized beings lived in such a remote wilderness as now
closed them in.

Soon the car came to a stop, and Pee-wee's thumping heart almost came to
a stop at the same time. Suppose they should lift the robe? What would
they do? And quite as much to the point, what should _he_ do? A sudden
impulse to throw off his kindly camouflage and run for all he was worth,
seized him. But he thought of those seventy pistols and two blackjacks
and refrained. Should he face them boldly, like the hero in a story book
and say, "Ha, ha, you are foiled. The eyes of the scout have followed
you in your flight and you are caught!"

No he would not do that. A scout is supposed to be cautious. He would
remain under the buffalo robe.

Presently he heard the unmistakable sound and felt the unmistakable