hate to run from such cattle, but it's our only
chance."

There was no time to waste. They were not yet at the mouth of the
alley when the infuriated pursuers burst through the saloon doors,
cursing and shouting. Lacy led them, animated by the one desire to
kill Westcott, fully aware that this alone would prevent the exposure
of his own crime.

"There they go!" he yelled madly, and fired. "Get that dirty murderer,
boys--get him!"

There were a dozen shots, but the two runners plunged about the corner
of the building, and disappeared, apparently untouched. Lacy leaped
from the platform to the ground, shouting his orders, and the crowd
surged after him in pursuit, some choosing the alley, others the
street. Revolvers cracked sharply, little spits of smoke showing in
the sunlight; men shouted excitedly, and two mounted cowboys lashed
their ponies up the dusty road in an effort to head off the fugitives.
Twice the two turned and fired, yet at that, hardly paused in their
race. Westcott held back, retarded by the shorter legs of his
companion, nevertheless they were fully a hundred feet in advance of
their nearest pursuers when they reached the hotel. In spite of Lacy's
urging the cowardly crew exhibited small desire to close in. The
marshal, glancing back over his shoulder, grinned cheerfully.

"We've got 'em beat, Jim," he panted, "less thar's others headin' us
off; run like a white-head; don't mind me."

The road ahead was clear, except for the speeding cowboys, and the
marshal made extremely quick work of them. There was a fusillade of
shots, and when these ended, one rider was down in the dust, the other
galloping madly away, lying flat on his pony, with no purpose but to
get out of range. The two fugitives plunged into the bushes opposite,
taking the roughest but most direct course to where the rather
precipitous banks dropped off to the stream below. There was a dam a
half mile down, and even at this point the water was wide and deep
enough to make any attempt at crossing dangerous. But half-way over an
upheaval of rock parted the current, forcing the swirling waters to
either side, and presenting a stern grey face to the shore. The
marshal, pausing for nothing, flung himself bodily down the steep bank,
unclasping his belt, as he half ran, half rolled to the bottom.

"Here, take these cartridges," he said, "and hold 'em up. Save yer
own, too, fer we're going to need 'em. That water out thar is p