"What a splendid place for secreting plunder, or hiding from officers
of the law."
It was almost dark ere the detective turned to retrace his steps. The
narrow path grew indistinct, and it was only with the utmost
difficulty that Dyke Darrel kept his course.
The snapping of a dry twig suddenly startled him.
This sound was followed almost instantly by the whip-like crack of a
rifle. A stinging sensation on the cheek, together with the whistle of
a deadly bullet, warned Dyke Darrel of a narrow escape.
CHAPTER XI.
POOR SIBYL!
Instantly the detective drew his revolver and sought shelter behind a
tree. Then he gazed sharply in the direction from whence the sound of
the rifle had come.
A faint line of smoke in the distance alone met the gaze of Dyke
Darrel.
It was evident that some one had fired upon him with murderous intent.
This was the belief of the detective.
"Somebody has dogged my steps; there can be no doubt about that,"
answered Dyke Darrel. "I was not wrong in my supposition that Black
Hollow is the rendezvous of a gang of outlaws. I wish I had one good
man with me to help hunt these scoundrels down."
The darkness deepened, but no one appeared, and fearing that he would
not be able to follow the path if he tarried, Dyke Darrel, with his
revolver in hand, ready for use, moved from his shelter, and attempted
to make his way out of the labyrinth in which he found himself.
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