ow to Billinger's face. Every fighting fiber in his body
was tingling for action, and at the responsive glare which he met in
Billinger's eyes he thrust his hand half over the space that separated
them.

"We'll get 'em, Billinger," he cried. "By God, we'll get 'em!"

There was something ferocious in the crush of the other's hand. The
Englishman's teeth gleamed for an instant between his seared mustaches
as he heeled his mount into a canter along the back of the ridge. Five
minutes later the knoll dipped again into the plain and at the foot
of it Billinger stopped his horse for a second and pointed to fresh
hoof-marks in the prairie sod. Philip jumped from his horse and examined
the ground.

"There are five in the gang, Billinger," he said shortly--"All of them
were galloping--but one." He looked up to catch Billinger leaning over
the pommel of his saddle staring at something almost directly under his
horse's feet.

"What's that?" he demanded. "A handkerchief?"

Philip picked it up--a dainty bit of fine linen, crumpled and sodden by
dew, and held it out between the forefinger and thumb of both hands.

"Yes, and a woman's handkerchief. Now what the devil--"

He stopped at the look in Billinger's face as he reached down for the
handkerchief. The square jaws of the man were set like steel springs,
but Philip noticed that his hand was trembling.

"A woman in the gang," he laughed as Philip mounted.

They started out at a canter, Billinger still holding the bit of linen
close under his eyes. After a little he passed it back to Philip who was
riding close beside him.

"Something happened last night," he said, looking straight ahead of him,
"that I can't understand. I didn't tell my wife. I haven't told any one.
But I guess you ought to know. It's interesting, anyway--and has made
a wreck of my nerves." He wiped his face with a blackened rag which he
drew from his hip pocket. "We were working hard to get out the living,
leaving the dead where they were for a time, and I had crawled under the
wreck of the sleeper. I was sure that I had heard a cry, and crawled
in among the debris, shoving a lantern ahead of me. About where Berth
Number Ten should have been, the timbers had telescoped upward, leaving
an open space four or five feet high. I was on my hands and knees,
bareheaded, and my lantern lighted up things as plain as day. At first
I saw nothing, and was listening again for the cry when I felt something
soft and l