t fail them at
the vital moment; he had no fear of Whiskers.

Sergeant Mahon let his eyes fall to the ground again and started.
Dropping to his knees, he bent close above the spot where the halfbreed
had scattered the spruce needles not an hour before. With careful
breath the Policeman blew. After a time he sank back on his heels and
passed a hand across his forehead. All about him he peered with
piercing eyes.

Blue Pete slowly drew the revolver from his belt.

Mahon came to his feet and moved forward, bent over the tell-tale moss
and half overgrown sand. He was making straight for the cave.

The arm of the halfbreed lifted. Perspiration was breaking out on his
swarthy face, and his left hand opened and closed. But his teeth were
gritted, and the hand that held the gun was steady as steel. At least
his old friend would never know who killed him.

A short ten yards from the cluster of trees that hid the cave Mahon
stopped, a perplexed, self-deprecatory twist to his face, like a man
who has been dreaming. Then he edged off toward the river, carelessly,
smiling reflectively. The halfbreed wriggled after him. For several
minutes the Sergeant stood looking out across the water, then,
shrugging his shoulders, skirted to the east and slowly climbed the
bank.

Blue Pete threw himself on the ground, dark face pillowed in a shaking
arm.

Mira came to him and touched his shoulder.

"I saw, Pete," she whispered huskily. "I, too, had him covered. . . .
We'll have to move again."

He looked up into the loving face, his heart thumping so fiercely that
his ears drummed. Suddenly he realised how much it meant to him that
now he was the only one that counted; she would have pulled the trigger
rather than risk his capture by the Police.

"You knew he was here?" There was no reproach in her voice.

"I didn't want to skeer yuh," he replied weakly.

She smiled: she could read him so well.

"We must cross the river and find a place over there," she decided.
"The construction raft at the trestle will get the horses over. . . .
If the Sergeant caught only a glimpse of Whiskers he'd know."

Blue Pete laughed. "When I git through with the ole gal her own mother
wudn't know her. I ain't bin in the rustlin' game all these years not
to pick up a few tricks to make a woman pinto look like a blood
stallion."

"But if he ever saw us--either of us."

The halfbreed spent the evening pondering on that.

CHAPTER