h and fallen logs
to be hurdled, and gullies and washouts to complicate the course. And at
every outward curve the _pin-n-gg!_ of a bullet told Smith of his
pursuer's nearness. Lying flat on the barebacked horse, he hung well to
the side until he was again out of sight. The lead plowed up the dirt
ahead of him and behind him, and flattened itself against rocks; and at
each futile shot Smith looked over his shoulder and grinned in derision,
though his skin had still the curious yellowness of fear.

The race was lasting longer than Smith had dared hope. It began to look as
if it were to narrow to a test of endurance, for although Ralston's shots
missed by only a hair's breadth at times, still, they missed. If Smith
ever had prayed, he would have prayed then; but he had neither words nor
faith, so he only hoped and rode.

A flat came into sight ahead and a yell burst from Ralston--a yell that
was unexpected to himself. A wave of exultation which seemed to come from
without swept over him. He touched the mare with the spur, and she skimmed
the rocks as if his weight on her back were nothing. It was smoother, and
he was close enough now to use his best weapon. He thrust the empty rifle
into its scabbard, and shot at Smith's horse with his six-shooter. It
stumbled; then its knees doubled under it, and Smith turned in the air.
The game was up; Smith was afoot.

He picked up his hat and dusted his coat-sleeve while he waited, and his
face was yellow and evil.

"That was a dum good horse," was Babe's single comment as he rode up.

"Get back to camp!" said Ralston peremptorily, and Smith, in his
high-heeled, narrow-soled boots, stumbled ahead of them without a word.

He looked at Tubbs's body without surprise. Sullen and surly, he felt no
regret that Tubbs, braggart and fool though he was, was dead. Smith had no
conscience to remind him that he himself was responsible.

Babe shook out Smith's blue army blanket and rolled Tubbs in it. Smith had
bought it from a drunken soldier, and he had owned it a long time. It was
light and almost water-proof; he liked it, and he eyed Babe's action with
disfavor.

"I reckon this gent will have to spend the day in a tree," said Babe
prosaically.

"Couldn't you use no other blanket nor that?" demanded Smith.

It was the first time he had spoken.

"Don't take on so," Babe replied comfortingly. "They furnish blankets
where you're goin'."

He went on with his work of throwing a hitch a