d he shuddered, glanced furtively
about him, and pulled up to listen for sounds of pursuit. He spurred his
horse viciously and the animal walked slowly on. He glanced upward. The
walls of the coulee were steep and high, and far above him, little stars
twinkled. Suddenly his heart ceased to beat. He felt weak and flabby and
there was a strange chill at the pit of his stomach. He could have sworn
that a face looked down at him from the clean-cut rim of the coulee. The
next moment it was gone. He proceeded a quarter of a mile, again looked
upward, and again he saw the face. His nerveless fingers closed about
the butt of his gun and drew it from its holster, but his hand shook so
that he thrust back the gun in disgust. They were after him. It was the
posse, or perhaps the nester whose cabin he had plundered--and he hoped
it was the posse. But, why didn't they shoot? Why didn't they come down
and get him, instead of hanging along the edge of the coulee like
buzzards, waiting for him to die of thirst. Twice more within the next
half-hour he saw the face, and each time it disappeared.

Something seemed to snap inside his head and he spurred his horse in a
perfect frenzy of rage. "Damn you!" he shrilled, and his voice rang
hollow and thin, "damn you, come and get me! Shoot me! String me up!
But, for Christ's sake, give me a drink! I stole the horse to make a
getaway. I gutted the nester's cabin! An' if it hadn't be'n for the
pilgrim, I'd--" A man stood directly in front of him--two men. They were
very close and one of them held a gun. Purdy could see the starlight
gleam faintly upon the barrel.

"Put 'em up!" The words were not loudly spoken, but somehow they seemed
deadly in earnest. Purdy's hands raised shakily:

"Damn you!" he screamed, "damn you all! Damn the world!"

"Coverin' quite a bit of territory, young feller. Better save up yer
cussin' till you know yer hurt. Take his bridle reins, Bill, an' we'll
be gittin' to camp." The other caught up the reins and once more the
coulee rang to the measured tread of hoofs.

"Give me a drink," mumbled Purdy, thickly. "Water--whisky----"

"We've got 'em both. Jest hold on about five minutes an' we'll fix you
out."

"An' then string me up," the words came with difficulty and the man in
front laughed shortly.

"Well, mebbe not. I'm guessin' young feller, mebbe you've lit luckier'n
what you think."

They turned abruptly into a side coulee, and a few moments later the
spokesm