he ford, and
then you can do the rest on foot. That'll leave you ten or a dozen miles.
Get aboard."

CHAPTER VIII

"A TIMBER WOLF IN HIS OWN COUNTRY"

When The Orphan said good-by to Bill he sat quietly in his saddle for a
minute watching the departing stage and wondered how it was that he had
the decency to avoid a fight with the cowboys in the presence of the
women. Then Helen's words came to him and he smiled at the idea of peace
when he would have to fight the outfit before sundown. The heat of the sun
on his bare head recalled him from his mental wanderings and he wheeled
abruptly and galloped along the trail to where he remembered that a tiny,
blood-stained handkerchief lay in the dust and sand. Soon he espied it
and, swinging over in the saddle, deftly picked it up and regained his
upright position, his head reeling at the effort. Unfolding it he examined
the neat "H" done in silk in one corner and smiled as he put it in his
chaps pocket where he kept his extra ammunition.

"Peace and war in one pocket," he muttered, grinning at his cartridges'
new and unusual companion.

Then he espied a Winchester near a fallen brave, and he procured it as he
had the handkerchief. Describing an arc he picked up another, discarding
it after he had emptied the magazine, for ammunition was what he wanted.
Two Winchesters were all right, but three were too many. As he threw it
from him he glanced through a slight opening in the chaparral and saw the
outfit approach the stage. Then he galloped to where his sombrero lay,
picked it up and turned to the south for the Cimarron Trail. When
thoroughly screened by the chaparral he pushed on with the swinging lope
which his horse could maintain for hours, and which ate up distance in
an astonishing manner. He had lost time in going for his sombrero and
the handkerchief, and every minute before nightfall was precious. His
thoughts now bent to the problem of how either to elude or ambush his
pursuers, and the Winchesters bespoke his forethought, for up to six
hundred yards they were not a pleasant proposition to face. If he
eluded the cowboys in the darkness he was morally certain that they
would take up his trail at dawn, and what distance he had gained would be
at the expense of the freshness of his horse. While he would average ten
miles an hour through the night, their mounts, freshened by a night's
rest, might cut down his gain before the nightfall of the next day.

One of