it is getting dark and finds
them. How do you account for that?"

"I've quit guessing; I'll leave the thing to you. Anyhow, I've had about
enough of Jernyngham; talked to me like a sergeant instructor last time I
met him, and you'd have felt proud if you'd seen the way he smiled when I
told him he had better go to you."

"We'll leave it at that," said Curtis. "The man's making me tired, and
he's worse than he was a month ago. Where's that Brandon paper?"

While Stanton looked for it there was a sound of wheels and a hail
outside, and a stinging draught swept in when the trooper opened the
door. A fur-wrapped man sat in a wagon holding up an envelope.

"For Curtis; come for it," he said. "Operator asked me to bring it along.
I'm 'most too cold to get down and I can't let the team stand."

The envelope slipped from his numbed fingers as Stanton tried to take it.

"Dropped near the wheel. My hand's 'most frozen, though I've good thick
mittens on. It's about the coldest night I've been out in."

He drove on, and Stanton hurried in and flung the door to before he
handed the telegram to Curtis.

When the corporal opened it his face grew intent.

"It's from Sergeant Crane," he said. "Glover was seen this morning near
Norton, heading east on the Sand Belt trail."

Stanton's face fell. He had been in the saddle the greater part of the
day, and the prospect of spending the night in pursuit of Glover did not
appeal to him, though he knew it could not be avoided. The man was a
notorious thief, whose last exploit had shown some ingenuity. Appearing
at the house of a prosperous farmer, he had shown him a letter from a
railroad contractor asking for the use of his best Clydesdale team on
tempting terms. The farmer let the horses go and saw no more of them,
while the contractor repudiated the letter. Glover was also supposed to
have had a hand in one or two more serious affairs.

"I guess we'll have to get after him," said the trooper. "Where'll he
make for?"

"Jepson's, sure. I don't know another house near the Sand Belt he could
reach to-night, and Jepson's most as slippery a tough as Glover is."

"It's a mighty long ride," said Stanton, "My ranger will stand for it; I
don't know about your gray."

"He'll have to make it," Curtis answered shortly. "Get your saddle on."

When Stanton went out Curtis stood up regretfully, for he was aching from
a long journey in the stinging cold and the room looked very comfortable.