have several of his troopers looking out for me.
Well, I want one of them to see and follow me south along the Montana
trail. There's no horse in the Government service can keep pace with
that black of mine, but it would not be difficult to pull him and just
keep the trooper out of carbine-shot behind. When he finds he can't
overtake the black, he'll go off for his comrades, and the boys will
run our goods across the river while they're picking up the trail."

"You mentioned the horse, but not yourself," said Winston quietly.

Courthorne laughed. "Yes," he said. "I will not be there. I'm
offering you one hundred dollars to ride the black for me. You can put
my furs on, and anybody who saw you and knew the horse would certify it
was me."

"And where will you be?"

"Here," said Courthorne dryly. "The boys will have no use for me until
they want a guide, but they'll leave an unloaded pack horse handy, and,
as it wouldn't suit any of us to make my connection with them too
plain, it will be a night or two later when I join them. In the
meanwhile your part's quite easy. No trooper could ride you down
unless you wanted him to, and you'll ride straight on to Montana--I've
a route marked out for you. You'll stop at the places I tell you, and
the testimony of anybody who saw you on the black would be quite enough
to clear me if Stimson's men are too eleven for the boys."

Winston sat still a moment, and it was not avarice which prompted him
when he said, "Considering the risk one hundred dollars is very little."

"Of course," said Courthorne. "Still, it isn't worth any more to me,
and there will be your expenses. If it doesn't suit you, I will do the
thing myself and find the boys another guide."

He spoke indifferently, but Winston was not a fool, and knew that he
was lying.

"Turn your face to the light," he said sharply.

A little ominous glint became visible in Courthorne's eyes, and there
was just a trace of darker color in his forehead, but Winston saw it
and was not astonished. Still, Courthorne did not move.

"What made you ask me that?" he said.

Winston watched him closely, but his voice betrayed no special interest
as he said, "I fancied I saw a mark across your cheek. It seemed to me
that it had been made by a whip."

The deeper tint was more visible on Courthorne's forehead, where the
swollen veins showed a trifle, and he appeared to swallow something
before he spoke. "Aren't you asking