dily,
scarcely exchanging a word, determined, grim, never swerving a yard from
the faint trail. The pursued were moving slower, hampered, no doubt, by
their lame horse, but were still well in advance. Moreover, the strain
of the saddle was already beginning to tell severely on Waite, weakened
somewhat by years, and the pursuers were compelled to halt oftener on
his account. The end of the second day found them approaching the broken
land bordering the Arkansas valley, and just before nightfall they
picked up a lame horse, evidently discarded by the party ahead.

By this time Keith had reached a definite decision as to his course. If
the fugitives received a fresh relay of horses down there somewhere, and
crossed the Arkansas, he felt positively sure as to their destination.
But it would be useless pushing on after them in the present shape
of his party--their horses worn out, and Waite reeling giddily in the
saddle. If Hawley's outfit crossed the upper ford, toward which they
were evidently heading, and struck through the sand hills, then they
were making for the refuge of that lone cabin on Salt Fork. Should this
prove true, then it was probable the gambler had not even yet discovered
the identity of Hope, for if he had, he would scarcely venture upon
taking her there, knowing that Keith would naturally suspect the spot.
But Keith would not be likely to personally take up the trail in search
for Christie Maclaire. It must have been Hawley then who had left the
party and ridden east, and up to that time he had not found out his
mistake. Yet if he brought out the fresh animals the chances were that
Hope's identity would be revealed. Bristoe, who had turned aside to
examine the straying horse, came trotting up.

"Belonged to their outfit all right, Cap," he reported, "carries the
double cross brand and that shebang is upon the Smoky; saddle galls
still bleeding."

Waite was now suffering so acutely they were obliged to halt before
gaining sight of the river, finding, fortunately, a water-hole fed by a
spring. As soon as the sick man could be made comfortable, Keith gave
to the others his conclusions, and listened to what they had to say.
Bristoe favored clinging to the trail even though they must travel
slowly, but Fairbain insisted that Waite must be taken to some town
where he could be given necessary care. Keith finally decided the
matter.

"None can be more anxious to reach those fellows than I am," he
declared,