m as
they go into the Pass for Bear Creek. He figures we'll have time to do
it if we jump. Noches is fifty-five miles from here, and about forty
from the Pass.

"With their bronchs loaded they can't make it in much less than five
hours. That gives us most three hours to reach the Pass and stop them.
What think, Brill? Can we make it?"

"We'll try damned hard. I'm not going to let Mr. Rustler Keller slip
through my fingers again!" Healy cried triumphantly.

"I don't believe it was Bear Creek men at all. I'm sure it wasn't Mr.
Keller," Phyllis cried, with a face like parchment.

There was an unholy light of vindictive triumph in Healy's face. "We'll
show you about that, Miss Missouri. Get the boys together, Cuffs. Call
up Purdy and Jim Budd and Tom Dixon on the phone. Rustle up as many of
the boys as you can. Start 'em for the Pass just as soon as they get
here. I'm going right up there now. Probably I can't stop them, but I
may make out who they are. Notify Buck Weaver, so he can head them off
if they try to cross the Malpais. And get a move on you. Hustle the boys
right along."

And with that he put spurs to his horse and galloped off.

CHAPTER XIX

THE ROAN WITH THE WHITE STOCKINGS

Unerringly rode Healy through the tangled hills toward a saddle in the
peaks that flared vivid with crimson and mauve and topaz. A man of
moods, he knew more than one before he reached the Pass for which he was
headed. Now he rode with his eyes straight ahead, his face creased to a
hard smile that brought out its evil lines. Now he shook his clenched
fist into the air and cursed.

Or again he laughed exultingly. This was when he remembered that his
rival was trapped beyond hope of extrication.

While the sky tints round the peaks deepened to purple with the coming
night he climbed canons, traversed rock ridges, and went down and up
rough slopes of shale. Always the trail grew more difficult, for he was
getting closer to the divide where Bear Creek heads. He reached the
upper regions of the pine gulches that seamed the hills with wooded
crevasses, and so came at last to Gregory's Pass.

Here, close to the yellow stars that shed a cold wintry light, he
dismounted and hobbled his horse. After which he found a soft spot in
the mossy rocks and fell asleep. He was a light sleeper, and two hours
later he awakened. Horses were laboring up the Pass.

He waited tensely, rifle in both hands, till the heads of the riders
showed