iftly,
with a stammer of haste in it: "To the right!"

Ay, there to the right, gliding from the corner of the house, went a
dark form, and then another, and disappeared among the rocks. They had
offered not enough target for even chance shooting.

"Hold for close range" ordered the sheriff, and the order was repeated.
However much he might wish to win all the glory of the fray, the sheriff
took no chances--threw none of his odds away. He was a methodical man.

A slight patter caught the ear of Vic, like the running of many small
children over a heavy carpet, and then two shades blew around the side
of the house, one small and scudding close to the ground, the other
vastly larger--a man on horseback. It seemed a naked horse at first, so
close to the back did the rider lean, and before Vic could see clearly
the vision burst on them all. Several things kept shots from being fired
earlier.

The first alarm had called attention to the opposite side of the house
from that on which the rider appeared; then, the moon gave only a
vague, treacherous light, and the black horse blended into it--the grass
lightened the fall of his racing feet.

Like a ship driving through a fog they rushed into view, the black
stallion, and Bart fleeting in front, and the surprise was complete. Vic
could see it work even in the sheriff, for the latter, having his rifle
trained towards his right jerked it about with a short curse and blazed
at the new target, again, again, and the line of the posse joined the
fire. Before the crack of their guns went from the ears of Vic, long
before the echoes bellowed back from the hills, Satan leaped high up.
Perhaps that change of position saved both it and its rider. Straight
across the pale moon drove the body with head stretched forth, ears
back, feet gathered close--a winged horse with a buoyant figure upon it.
It cleared a five foot rock, and rushed instantly out of view among
the boulders. The fugitive had fired only one shot, and that when the
stallion was at the crest of its leap.

Chapter XVII. The Second Man

The sheriff was on his feet, whining with eagerness and with the rest of
his men he sent a shower of lead splashing vainly into the deeper night
beside the mountain, where the path wound down.

"It's done! Hold up, lads!" called Pete Glass. "He's beat us!"

The firing ceased, and they heard the rush of the hoofs along the
graveled slope and the clanging on rocks.

"It's done," repea