necessary to satisfy himself
that the ground under the trees was bare except for a thick carpet of
pine-needles. Fortune was with him for once, and he suddenly turned
and led his horse in among the trees. As he walked he disturbed the
carpet as much as he could without attracting attention, and having
come to a halt, he quickly turned his horse about the further to
disturb the underlay. Then he flung himself into a sitting posture at
the foot of one of the trees, at the same time deliberately raising a
dust with his feet.

"This is the spot," he said, looking frankly up into the doctor's
face. "I s'pose I must have been here somewhere around two hours. How
far have we come? A matter of two hundred yards? Look out there. It's
more or less a blank outlook of trees."

But Doc Crombie was studying the ground. Jim sprang up and began to
move round his horse, feeling the cinchas of his saddle. He felt he
could reasonably do this, and further disturb the underlay without
exciting suspicion. It was a dreadful moment for him, for he noted
that all eyes were closely scrutinizing the ground.

Suddenly the doctor fixed an eagle glance on his face. Jim met it. He
believed it to be the final question. But the man gave him no
satisfaction. He left him with the uncertainty as to whether he had
wholly fooled him or not. His words were peremptory.

"We'll git back an' finish the hunt," he declared. Then, "Will that
durned plug carry you now?"

Jim shrugged.

"Maybe at a walk."

"Wal, git right on."

Jim obeyed. It would have been madness to refuse. But his brain was
desperately busy.

They rode back to the river bank at the point where the fugitive had
taken to the water. Most of the men dismounted, and, with noses to the
ground, they studied the tracks. Two or three moved along the bank
vainly endeavoring to discover the man's further direction; and two of
them rode across to the opposite side. But the banks told them
nothing. Their quarry had obviously not crossed the water. A quarter
of an hour was spent thus, Jim helping all he knew; then finally Doc
Crombie called his men together.

"We'll git right on," he declared authoritatively.

"Which way?" inquired Smallbones. He was angry, but looked depressed.

The doctor considered a moment, and the men stood round waiting.

"We'll head up-stream for the hills," he said at last. "Guess he'll
make that way. We'll divide up on either side of the river. Guess you
best take