rolled over, the shafts
snapped, and the horse, breaking free, raced through the town.

"Look!" Harding cried. "What has happened?"

On the seat of the vehicle was an ugly red splash, while the floor was
smothered with blood.

"Send along to Brennan to follow me, will you?" Durham exclaimed as he
sprang to his horse, which was standing at the door of the bank, mounted
it, and spurred away along the road the runaway had come.

Four miles away on the Taloona road he found Dudgeon.

The old man lay in a heap in the middle of the road, riddled with bullet
wounds, any one of which would have proved fatal.

There were abundant signs of a fierce struggle. As Durham read the
indications, an attack had been made upon him while he was driving
along He had been shot and had struggled from the vehicle, probably
returning the fire, for there was the mark where another man had fallen
and added another red stain to the ground. Then the two had closed and,
in the contest which ensued, Dudgeon had gone down, his assailant
venting his mad rage by firing bullet after bullet into the prostrate
form.

While he was still examining the marks Durham was joined by Brennan and
half a dozen of the townsmen who had ridden out in obedience to
Harding's warning. Durham drew Brennan aside.

"I only have my revolver with me," he said. "Give me your carbine and
what cartridges you have. I must get away on his tracks before any of
the men lose their heads and ruin the chance of capture by smothering
them."

"Give Brennan what help you can, will you?" he called out to the men who
stood by their horses looking, horror-stricken, at the lifeless form of
the old man.

Mounting his horse he sped away. For a time he watched the track of a
horse which had galloped just off the road. It had evidently lacked a
firm hand on the bridle, for it seemed to have taken its own direction.

The rider was wounded. Of that Durham was certain.

Under such circumstances where would he go?

As Durham turned his horse into the bush, making for the range where the
little cave was situated, he answered his own question.

Riding at topmost speed, he reasoned as he rode. The other man had at
least two hours' start. With such a lead he could easily reach the cave
first if he could ride steadily. But he was wounded, and in that lay
Durham's hope of getting there before him.

The light was waning by the time the commencement of the foothills was
reached. At the bott