was still in the flesh, but in a
savage mood for all that. This, thought I, is a dismal-looking
outcome--two men and a dead horse left high and dry on the sun-flooded
prairie. And a rampant ache in my head, seconded by a medium-sized gash
in the scalp, didn't make for an access of optimism at that moment.

"Well," I burst out profanely, "we lose again, eh?"

"Looks like it," Mac answered laconically. Then he whirled about and
walked to a little point some distance away, where he stood with his
back to me, looking toward Lost River.

CHAPTER XIII.

OUTLAWED.

I sat where I was for a while, fingering my sore head and keeping my
thoughts to myself, for I had a keen sense of the mood he was in. For
the second time, through no fault of his own, he had failed to live up
to that tradition of the Force which accepts nothing short of
unqualified victory for a Mounted Policeman when he clashes with
breakers of the law. And, in addition, he had let slip through his
fingers a fortune that belonged to a woman for whom he cared a great
deal more than he was willing to admit. I felt pretty small and ashamed
myself, to think of the ease with which they had left us afoot on the
bald prairie after all our scheming, our precaution against something we
were sure would happen; and there was no responsibility on my
shoulders--except for that ten thousand of La Pere's, which I was
beginning to think I'd looked my last upon. Mac had not only the
knowledge of personal failure--bitter enough, itself, to a man of his
temperament--to gnaw at him, but the prospect of another grilling from
the powers in gold braid. It would have been strange if he hadn't felt
blue.

He came back, however, in a few minutes, and squatting beside me
abstractedly got out papers and tobacco.

"I suppose that bunch will quit the country now," he remarked at length.
"They've got their hands on a heap of money in the last ten days; all
they'll have a chance to grab for some time. And they've come out into
the open. So there's not much doubt of their next move--they'll be on
the wing."

"Well, we have a cinch on identifying them now," I commented. "We've got
that much out of the deal. If the Mounted Police are half as good
man-hunters as they are said to be, they ought to round up that bunch in
short order. Did the black hurt you when he fell?"

"Bruised my leg some," he returned indifferently. Then, scowling at the
remembrance: "If he hadn't caught me r