r.

"I plays her a lone hand," announced Alfred.

You see, Alfred knew well enough his own defects. He never could make
plans when anybody else was near, but always instinctively took the
second place. Then, when the other's scheme had fallen into ruins, he
would construct a most excellent expedient from the wreck of it. In the
case under consideration he preferred to arrange his own campaign, and
therefore to work alone.

By that time men knew Alfred. They made no objection.

"Snowin'," observed one of the chronic visitors of the saloon door.
There are always two or three of such in every Western gathering.

"One of you boys saddle my bronc," suddenly requested Alfred, and began
to examine his firearms by the light of the saloon lamp.

"Yo' ain't aimin' to set out to-night?" they asked, incredulously.

"I am. Th' snow will make a good trail, but she'll be covered come
mornin'."

So Alfred set out alone, at night, in a snowstorm, without the guidance
of a solitary star, to find a single point in the vastness of the
prairie.

He made the three hours of Billy and the tenderfoot in a little over an
hour, because it was mostly down hill. So the agent had apparently four
hours the start of him, which discrepancy was cut down, however, by the
time consumed in breaking open the strong-box after Billy and the stage
had surely departed beyond gunshot. The exact spot was easily marked by
the body of Buck, the express messenger. Alfred convinced himself that
the man was dead, but did not waste further time on him: the boys would
take care of the remains next day. He remounted and struck out sharp for
the east, though, according to Billy's statement, the agent had turned
north.

"He is alone," said Alfred to himself, "so he ain't in that Black Hank
outfit. Ain't nothin' to take him north, an' if he goes south he has to
hit way down through the South Fork trail, which same takes him two
weeks. Th' greenbacks in that plunder is numbered, and old Wells-Fargo
has th' numbers. He sure has to pike in an' change them bills afore he
is spotted. So he goes to Pierre."

Alfred staked his all on this reasoning and rode blindly eastward.
Fortunately the roll of the country was sufficiently definite to enable
him to keep his general direction well enough until about three o'clock,
when the snow ceased and the stars came out, together with the waning
moon. Twenty minutes later he came to the bed of a stream.

"Up or down?" queried