he grade. I ain't heard her whistle yet. I
wouldn't wonder but what you can make it. Not that I'm aimin' none to
hurry you."

The ex-blacksmith reached for the telephone and got his connection.

"Runnin' twenty minutes late," he announced. "Hop in my car an' we'll
jest about make her. She don't do much more'n hesitate at Caroca when
she's behind time."

He hurried them out on the street to where a car stood by the curb.
Molly and her few belongings got in behind, Sandy mounted with Goodwin.

"You'll take good care of the hawsses, Chuck?" he said. "I'll probably
be back for 'em myse'f in three-fo' days."

"Seguro." Goodwin stepped on his starter and the flywheel whirred to
sputtering explosions. Another car came limping down the street, flat
on both rims of one side, its paint plastered with mud, one light out,
the other dimmed with mire. The driver called to Goodwin.

"Which way to the depot?"

Goodwin, his hand on the lever, foot on the clutch, was astounded to
hear Sandy hissing out.

"Don't tell 'em. Scoot ahead full speed." Then, over his shoulder to the
girl, "Crouch down there, Molly." Goodwin was still a man of action and
he knew Sandy Bourke of old. Out came the pedal, the gears engaged and
the car shot ahead, beneath a swinging arc light. Sandy's hat-rim did
not sufficiently shade his face or Molly's action had not been swift
enough. There came a yell and a string of curses from the crippled car
which backed and turned and followed, its torn treads flapping.

Goodwin asked no questions of Sandy. If the latter wanted ever to tell
him why he required a quick exit out of Caroca, or why he was followed,
he could. If not, never mind. He slid his gears into high and dodged
around corners recklessly. A red lantern showed ahead in the middle of
the road. They crashed through a light obstruction of boards and
trestles, overturning the lantern and plowed on over rough stones.

"I'm mayor," said Goodwin with a grin. "Breakin' my own rules but I
figger that broken stone'll bother 'em some. We'll chance it."

They lunged through, regardless of tires and, behind them, the pursuing
car rattled, lurched, skidded. A third tire blew out and as Goodwin
swung a corner with two wheels in the air the sheriff's machine smashed
viciously across the sidewalk, poking its crumpling radiator into a
cottonwood.

"Brazen bulls!" shouted Goodwin. "There she blows! You got to run."

The depot was ahead, to one side of the road-