hrough
the big pane of the window and out to the twenty-foot plunge which
awaited him.

Blocked by the form of Fairchild, the two sheriffs sought in vain to
use the guns which they had drawn from their holsters. Hurriedly they
gained the window, but already the form of Rodaine had unrolled itself
from the snow bank into which it had fallen, dived beneath the
protection of the low coping which ran above the first-floor windows of
the hotel, skirted the building in safety and whirled into the alley
that lay beyond. Squint Rodaine was gone. Frantically, Fairchild
turned for the door, but a big hand stopped him.

"Let him go--let him think he 's gotten away," said grizzled Sheriff
Mason. "He ain't got a chance. There 's snow everywhere--and we can
trail him like a hound dawg trailing a rabbit. And I think I know
where he 's bound for. Whatever that was you said about Crazy Laura
hit awful close to home. It ain't going to be hard to find that
rattler!"

CHAPTER XXV

Fairchild felt the logic of the remark and ceased his worriment.
Quietly, as though nothing had happened, the three men went down the
stairs, passed the sleeping night clerk and headed back to the
sheriff's office, where waited Anita and Harry, who had completed his
last duties in regard to the chalky-faced Maurice Rodaine. The
telephone jangled. It was Denver. Mason talked a moment over the
wire, then turned to his fellow officer.

"They 've got Barnham. He was in his office, evidently waiting for a
call from here. What's more, he had close to a million dollars in
currency strapped around him. Pete Carr 's bringing him and the boodle
up to Ohadi on the morning train. Guess we 'd better stir up some
horses now and chase along, had n't we?"

"Yes, and get a gentle one for me," cautioned Harry. "It's been eight
years since I 've sit on the 'urricane deck of a 'orse!"

"That goes for me too," laughed Fairchild.

"And me--I like automobiles better," Anita was twisting her long hair
into a braid, to be once more shoved under her cap. Fairchild looked
at her with a new sense of proprietorship.

"You 're not going to be warm enough!"

"Oh, yes, I will."

"But--"

"I'll end the argument," boomed old Sheriff Mason, dragging a heavy fur
coat from a closet. "If she gets cold in this--I 'm crazy."

There was little chance. In fact, the only difficulty was to find the
girl herself, once she and the great coat were on the back of a s