Trail Ride by Bonnie Bryant

is sick. Can you take me to him?”
    Two workers came staggering out of the tent laden down with a large crate. One of them stumbled over a rope, and the box went crashing to the ground.
    “You idiot!” screamed the man she had been talking to. “See that you’re more careful, or I’ll have your hides! Those are priceless.”
    “Well, not quite priceless,” Lisa heard one of the others snicker as they hurried over to check on the contents.
    That was when it hit her. These people weren’t with the dig, they were poachers. Archaeological thieves, stealing the professor’s finds!
    She realized at once that she was in serious trouble. If they were criminals, then she was an eyewitness. Slowly, while the men were still focused on the dropped box of dinosaur bones, she began to creep away. She managed to back almost out of the circle of light without drawing their attention, then she slipped on a loose rock and fell heavily to the ground. At once, all eyes were focused on her.
    “Get her!” someone shouted.
    With a scream, Lisa scrambled to her feet and fled, running as fast as she could, leaping over ropes and rocks. She could hear her pursuers yelling behind her; one man sounded alarmingly close. She risked a glance back over her shoulder and screamed again. A man with a nasty scar across his cheek was reaching out for her. She dodged left and leaped across a pit. Behind her she heard the man fall, hit the ground, and swear harshly. She redoubled her efforts. If she could reach Stewball, she’d have a good chance of escaping. But would he still be there?
    The last twenty yards to the big boulder felt like miles, but she finally rounded the corner and her heartjumped. Stewball was standing patiently, exactly where she had left him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she gasped, running to his side. She was afraid he might spook and bolt, but she dared not take the time to approach him properly. The horse rolled his eyes and shuffled nervously but stood his ground.
    In a flash she was in the saddle, and none too soon. The men charged around the corner, shouting angrily in Spanish. She didn’t understand their words, but she understood their intentions. “Go, Stewball, go!” she cried.
    As the horse started forward, one of the men dived at him. “Got him!” he shouted.
    Lisa looked back to see him clinging desperately to Stewball’s tail with both hands.
    “No!” she shouted.
    She felt the horse lurch beneath her as he kicked out with both hind feet. There was a loud cry of pain, and suddenly they were free, scrambling and stumbling up the path. Within moments Lisa heard the voices behind her receding into the distance. “Atta boy!” she called to the horse.
    Heart racing in her chest, Lisa slowed the pinto to a safer pace, working her way back up the steep trail from the canyon floor. Five minutes later she had cleared the top and stopped to get her bearings. The sound of anapproaching car engine caught her attention. Not twenty-five yards away, a Jeep rolled to a halt. Filled with relief, she was about to call out when something stopped her. Was it possible that whoever had arrived was not friendly, but actually more poachers?
    In the next instant her worst fears were realized.
    “Check over there!” someone yelled. “She couldn’t have gotten out of here yet.”
    The thieves had clearly radioed ahead and their colleagues had come to cut her off. Lisa quickly considered her options. She couldn’t go directly to the ranch because they were blocking the path. She couldn’t go to the left because that would lead them to Carole. Her only choice was to lead them away.
If I can get them to follow me
, she thought,
maybe I can circle around them farther ahead.
    At that moment there was a shout and one of the men pointed in her direction. Without hesitation she whirled Stewball around and urged him into a mad gallop. Traveling at breakneck speeds over unfamiliar ground, at the edge of a sheer cliff in the