cquiescence. "Anyway," he added, "I'll
have to go after him. We must have the horse, for one thing; but I
suppose we'll lose four days. This is rough on you."

"Yes," agreed Harding, "you must go after him; but don't mind about me.
The man's a friend of yours, and I like him; I wouldn't feel happy if
we let him fall back into the clutches of that cunning brute. Now
we'll get breakfast; you'll need it."

"If you don't mind waiting," Blake said, while they made a hasty meal,
"I'll follow him half-way to Sweetwater, if necessary. You see, I
haven't much expectation of overtaking him before he leaves the horse.
It's faster than the pony; and we don't know when he started."

"That's so. Still, you're tough; and I guess the first hard day's ride
will be enough for your partner."

Five minutes later Blake was picking his way as fast as possible
through the woods. It was a cool morning, and when he had gone a few
miles the ground was fairly dear. By noon he was in more open country,
where there were long stretches of grass, and after a short rest he
pushed on fast. Bright sunshine flooded the waste that now stretched
back to the south, sprinkled with clumps of bush that showed a shadowy
blue in the distance. Near at hand, the birch and poplar leaves glowed
in flecks of vivid lemon among the white stems; but Blake rode hard,
his eyes turned steadily on the misty skyline. It was broken only by
clusters of small trees; nothing moved on the wilderness of grass and
sand ahead of him.

He felt tired when evening came, but he pressed on to find water before
he camped. Benson was a weakling, who would no doubt give them further
trouble; but they had taken him in hand, and Blake had made up his mind
to save him from the rogue who preyed upon his failings.

It was getting late when he saw a faint trail of smoke curl up against
the sky from a distant bluff, and on approaching it he checked the
jaded pony. Then he dismounted and, picketing the animal, moved
cautiously around the edge of the woods. Passing a projecting tongue
of smaller brush, he saw, as he had expected, Benson sitting beside the
fire. Blake stopped a moment to watch him. The man's face was weary,
his pose was slack, and it was obvious that the life he had led had
unfitted him for a long, hard ride. He looked forlorn and dejected;
but as Blake moved forward, he roused himself, and his eyes had an
angry gleam.

"So you have overtaken me! I thought m