grew gentle.

"It takes a lot of doing. Yet I'll do it for you, Laura," he said. "But
it's hard on the Pioneers."

Once more her humor flashed, and it seemed to him that "getting religion"
was not so depressing after all--wouldn't be, anyhow, when this nasty job
was over.

"The Pioneers will get over it, Tim," she rejoined. "They've swallowed a
lot in their time. Heaven's gate will have to be pretty wide to let in a
real Pioneer," she added. "He takes up so much room--ah, Timothy Denton!"
she added, with an outburst of whimsical merriment.

"It hasn't spoiled you--being converted--has it?" he said, and gave a
quick little laugh, which somehow did more for his ancient cause with her
than all he had ever said or done. Then he stepped outside and swung into
his saddle.

* * * * *

It had been a hard and anxious ride, but Tim had won, and was keeping his
promise. The night had fallen before he got to the mountains, which he and
the Pioneers had seen the Faith Healer enter. They had had four miles'
start of Tim, and had ridden fiercely, and they entered the gulch into
which the refugee had disappeared still two miles ahead.

The invincibles had seen Tim coming, but they had determined to make a
sure thing of it, and would themselves do what was necessary with the
impostor, and take no chances. So they pressed their horses, and he saw
them swallowed by the trees as darkness gathered. Changing his course, he
entered the familiar hills, which he knew better than any Pioneer of
Jansen, and rode a diagonal course over the trail they would take. But
night fell suddenly, and there was nothing to do but to wait till morning.
There was comfort in this--the others must also wait, and the refugee
could not go far. In any case, he must make for settlement or perish,
since he had left behind his sheep and his cow.

It fell out better than Tim hoped. The Pioneers were as good hunters as
was he, their instinct was as sure, their scouts and trackers were many,
and he was but one. They found the Faith Healer by a little stream, eating
bread and honey, and, like an ancient woodlander, drinking from a
horn--relic of his rank imposture. He made no resistance. They tried him,
formally if perfunctorily; he admitted his imposture, and begged for his
life. Then they stripped him naked, tied a bit of canvas round his waist,
fastened him to a tree, and were about to complete his punishment when Tim