and the people
she lived with might out of kindness have concealed part of the news from
her. However that might be, I determined to save the horse, and explained
this to Aline, with a brotherly warning not to allow emotion to get the
better of her judgment in future. She listened with a docility that
promised future reprisals, and then, agreeing that it would be well to
secure the horse, said that she should not mind being left alone. Indeed,
unless something very unexpected happened, she would be as safe alone at
Fairmead as in any town.

So I saddled the next best horse, donned my warmest skin coat, and started
for a cold ride across the prairie. The snow was thin and fairly hard--it
seldom lies deep about Fairmead; but in view of the return journey I did
not urge the horse, and our sleigh had lost a runner. So when perhaps half
the distance had been traversed a beat of hoofs grew louder behind me, and
four horsemen, riding hard, came up. By the jingle of accouterments I knew
they were the wardens of the prairie, and half expected what was to
follow.

"Hold up!" the sharp summons came, while I recognized my old acquaintance,
Sergeant Angus, as the speaker. "Lorimer o' Fairmead--good night to ye.
Have ye seen a two-horse sleigh? We've news of it passing Green Hollow,
south-bound, four hours ago!"

"Whom are you wanting?" I asked.

"Thomas Fletcher," the sergeant answered. "One of his late partners gave
him away, and there's a warrant for him. They wired us on to watch the
stations, and a message came from Elktail that he'd been seen heading
south in a sleigh. He's no friend o' yours; have ye met that sleigh, and
where are ye riding at this unholy hour?"

"No," I said, "I haven't seen the sleigh; but a woman drove up to
Fairmead, where my sister was alone, and borrowed my best horse. There are
some business friends of yours on the trail to Dakota, and I'm going south
in case they took a fancy to it."

"Ye're wise," said Sergeant Angus. "A woman, are ye sure?"

"My sister was sure, and she ought to know."

"I'm not quite understanding this," he said, "but meantime Thomas Fletcher
is skipping for the boundary. Ride ye, boys, ride!"

I was thankful for the diversion, for I could not see my way clearly, and
as we pressed on there was small opportunity for awkward questions. I
wanted the horse and meant to get it, but that would have contented me,
and I had no desire to assist in the capture of Fletcher. Another