le
distant.

Presently that gentleman pulled up and swung out of saddle. "Half a
minute," he said, "my saddle's slipping! I want to tighten my cinch."

The small cavalcade halted. Slavin's restless eyes roving over the
expanse of unbroken snow on his left hand, suddenly dilated, and he
uttered an eager exclamation, pointing downwards with outflung arm.

"Ah," said he grimly, "here we are, I'm thinkin'!" And he clambered
hastily out of the cutter.

Yorke and Redmond, dismounting swiftly, stepped forward with him and
examined minutely the unmistakably fresh imprints of large-sized feet
angling off from the trail towards the bank of the frozen river.

"Hob-nailed boots!" ejaculated Yorke. "Guess that must be him, all
right, Mr. Gully?"

The latter bent and scrutinized the imprints. "Sure must be," he
rejoined, with conviction. "A man walking out on the range is a
curiosity. I can't think how I could have missed them--coming along.
But I guess I was so mad, and in such a devil of a hurry I didn't notice
much. I made sure of catching up to him somewhere on the trail."

Slavin beckoned to Redmond and, much to that young gentleman's chagrin,
bade him hold the lines of the restless team, while he (Slavin), along
with Yorke and Gully, started forwards trailing the footprints. Arriving
at the river's edge they slid down the bank and followed the tracks over
the snow-covered ice to the centre of the river. Here was open water for
some distance; the powerful current at this point keeping open a ten-foot
wide steaming fissure. The tracks hugged its edge to a point about four
hundred yards westward, where the fissure closed up again and enabled
them to cross to the opposite bank. Clambering up this their quest led
them across a long stretch of comparatively level ground to the fenced-in
railway-track.

Ducking under the lower strand of wire they reached the line. At the
foot of the graded road-bed, Slavin, who was ahead, halted suddenly and
uttered an oath. Stooping down he picked up something and, turning round
to his companions exhibited his find. It was a small, black-leather
bill-folder--empty.

Gully regarded his lost property with smouldering eyes, and he uttered a
ghastly imprecation. "Yes, that's it," he said simply, "beggar's boned
the bills and chucked this away for fear of incriminating evidence--in
case he was nabbed again, I suppose. The bills were mostly in fives and
tens--Standard Bank--I re