little until they had
straggled out where the trail was narrow and deeply rutted. No one
could turn them hastily there, and the men who drove them could
scarcely escape the troopers who waited them, if they blundered on
through the darkness of the bush. So five breathless minutes passed,
Trooper Shannon standing tense and straight with every nerve tingling
as he braced himself for an effort, Courthorne stooping a little with
forefinger on the trigger, and the Marlin rifle at his hip. Then
through a lull there rose a clearer thud of hoofs. It was lost in the
thrashing of the twigs as a gust roared down again, and Trooper Shannon
launched himself like a panther upon his enemy.

He might have succeeded, and the effort was gallantly made, but
Courthorne had never moved his eyes from the shadowy object before him,
and even as it sprang, his finger contracted further on the trigger.
There was a red flash, and because he fired from the hip the trigger
guard gashed his mitten. He sprang sideways scarcely feeling the bite
of the steel, for the lad's hand brushed his shoulder. Then there was
a crash as something went down heavily amidst the crackling twigs.
Courthorne stooped a little, panting in the smoke that blew into his
eyes, jerked the Marlin lever, and, as the moon came through again, had
a blurred vision of a white drawn face that stared up at him, still
with defiance in its eyes. He looked down into it as he drew the
trigger once more.

Shannon quivered a moment, and then lay very still, and it was high
time for Courthorne to look to himself, for there was a shouting in the
bluff, and something came crashing through the undergrowth. Even then
his cunning did not desert him, and flinging the Marlin down beside the
trooper, he slipped almost silently in and out among the birches and
swung himself into the saddle of a tethered horse. Unlooping the
bridle from a branch, he pressed his heels home, realizing as he did it
that there was no time to lose, for it was evident that one of the
troopers was somewhat close behind him, and others were coming across
the river. He knew the bluff well, and having no desire to be
entangled in it was heading for the prairie, when a blink of moonlight
showed him a lad in uniform riding at a gallop between him and the
crest of the slope. It was Trooper Payne, and Courthorne knew him for
a very bold horseman.

Now, it is possible that had one of the rustlers, who were simple men