r the slope!"

"Got our wind," said Aldous.

They went on, a colour in Joanne's face like the vivid sunset. They camped
two hours before dusk, and MacDonald figured they had made better than
twenty miles that day. The same precautions were observed in guarding the
camp as the night before, and the long hours of vigil were equally
uneventful. The next day added still more to Aldous' peace of mind
regarding possible attack from Quade, and on the night of this day, their
fourth in the mountains, he spoke his mind to MacDonald.

For a few moments afterward the old hunter smoked quietly at his pipe. Then
he said:

"I don't know but you're right, Johnny. If they were behind us they'd most
likely have tried something before this. But it ain't in the law of the
mount'ins to be careless. We've got to watch."

"I agree with you there, Mac," replied Aldous. "We cannot afford to lose
our caution for a minute. But I'm feeling a deuced sight better over the
situation just the same. If we can only get there ahead of them!"

"If Quade is in the bunch we've got a chance of beating them," said
MacDonald thoughtfully. "He's heavy, Johnny--that sort of heaviness that
don't stand up well in the mount'ins; whisky-flesh, I call it. Culver Rann
don't weigh much more'n half as much, but he's like iron. Quade may be a
drag. An' Joanne, Lord bless her!--she's facing the music like an' 'ero,
Johnny!"

"And the journey is almost half over."

"This is the fourth day. I figger we can make it in ten at most, mebby
nine," said old Donald. "You see we're in that part of the Rockies where
there's real mount'ins, an' the ranges ain't broke up much. We've got
fairly good travel to the end."

On this night Aldous slept from eight until twelve. The next, their fifth,
his watch was from midnight until morning. As the sixth and the seventh
days and nights passed uneventfully the belief that there were no enemies
behind them became a certainty. Yet neither Aldous nor MacDonald relaxed
their vigilance.

The eighth day dawned, and now a new excitement took possession of Donald
MacDonald. Joanne and Aldous saw his efforts to suppress it, but it did not
escape their eyes. They were nearing the tragic scenes of long ago, and old
Donald was about to reap the reward of a search that had gone faithfully
and untiringly through the winters and summers of forty years. He spoke
seldom that day. There were strange lights in his eyes. And once his voice
was husky