second command from Woodley, accompanied by; a similar
menace, he urges the animal into action, and moves on towards their
bivouac.

In less than sixty seconds after, he is in their midst, dismounted and
down upon his knees, piteously appealing to them to spare his life.

The ex-jailor's story is soon told, and that without any reservation.
The man who has connived at Richard Darke's escape, and made money by
the connivance, is now more than repentant for his dereliction of duty.
For he has not only been bullied by Borlasse's band, but stripped of his
ill-gotten gains. Still more, beaten, and otherwise so roughly handled
that he has been long trying to get quit of their company. Having
stolen away from their camp--while the robbers were asleep--he is now
returning along the trail they had taken into Texas, on his way back to
the States, with not much left him, except a very sorry horse and a
sorrowing heart.

His captors soon discover that, with his sorrow, there is an admixture
of spite against his late associates. Against Darke in particular, who
has proved ungrateful for the great service done him.

All this does Harkness communicate to them, and something besides.

Something that sets Clancy well-nigh crazed, and makes almost as much
impression upon his fellow-travellers.

After hearing it they bound instantly to their saddles, and spur away
from the spot; Harkness, as commanded, following at their horses' heels.
This he does without daring to disobey; trotting after, in company with
the dog, seemingly less cur than himself.

They have no fear of his falling back. Woodley's rifle, whose barrel
has been already borne upon him, can be again brought to the level in an
instant of time.

The thought holds him secure, as if a trail-rope attached him to the
tail of the hunter's horse.

CHAPTER FORTY TWO.

THE PRAIRIE CARAVAN.

Picture in imagination meadows, on which scythe of mower has never cut
sward, nor haymaker set foot; meadows loaded with such luxuriance of
vegetation--lush, tall grass--that tons of hay might be garnered off a
single acre; meadows of such extent, that in speaking of them you may
not use the word acres, but miles, even this but faintly conveying the
idea of their immensity; in fancy summon up such a scene, and you will
have before you what is a reality in Texas.

In seeming these plains have no boundary save the sky--no limit nearer
than the horizon. And since to the eye of t