ase it should be child's play."

"I hope it will prove as you anticipate," put in John Allandale,
concisely. "What you suggest has been experienced by us before. However,
the matter, I feel sure, is in capable hands."

The officer acknowledged the compliment mechanically. He was thinking
deeply. Lablache struggled to his feet, and, supporting his bulk with
one hand resting upon the desk, gasped out his final words upon the
matter.

"I want you to remember, sergeant, this matter not only affects me
personally but also in my capacity as a justice of the peace. To
whatever reward I am able to make in the name of H.M. Government I shall
add the sum of one thousand dollars for the recovery of the cattle, and
the additional sum of one thousand dollars for the capture of the
miscreant himself. I have determined to spare no expense in the matter
of hunting this devil," with vindictive intensity, "down, therefore you
can draw on me for all outlay your work may entail. All I say is,
capture him."

"I shall do my best, Mr. Lablache," Horrocks replied simply. "And now,
if you will permit me, I will go down to the settlement to give a few
orders to my men. Good-morning--er--Miss Allandale; good day, gentlemen.
You will hear from me to-night."

The officer left in all the pride of his official capacity. And possibly
his pride was not without reason, for many and smart were the captures
of evil-doers he had made during his career as a keeper of the peace.
But we have been told that "pride goeth before a fall." His estimation
of a "hustler" was not an exalted one. He was accustomed to dealing with
men who shoot quick and straight--"bad men" in fact--and he was equally
quick with the gun, and a dead shot himself. Possibly he was a shade
quicker and a trifle more deadly than the smartest "bad man" known, but
now he was dealing with a man of all these necessary attainments and
whose resourcefulness and cleverness were far greater than his own.
Sergeant Horrocks had a harder road to travel than he anticipated.

Lablache took his departure shortly afterwards, and "Poker" John and his
niece were left in sole possession of the office at the ranch.

The old man looked thoroughly wearied with the mental effort the
interview had entailed upon him. And Jacky, watching him, could not help
noticing how old her uncle looked. She had been a silent observer in the
foregoing scene, her presence almost ignored by the other actors. Now,
however,