away, but he had recognized the easy gait and
trim figure of Kate Seton. After a moment's pause he withdrew his gaze
and went on.

"I've got all I need out of that place--for the present. You've seen
the wagon and--recognized it. It's the wagon they ran that last cargo
in. The man who drove it was Pete Clancy. Clancy is one of Charlie
Bryant's gang. I don't think we need any more--yet. We've centralized
the running of that last cargo. The rest of the work is for the
future. My plans are all ready. The patrol comes in from Amberley
to-night. It will be ample reinforcement. We're just one move ahead of
these boys, here, and we've got to keep that way. You can get right
back to quarters, and wait for my return. I'm going in to the mail
office to run my eye over local mail. The envelopes of a local mail
make good reading--when a man's used to it."

McBain grinned in a manner that seemed to give his hard face pain.

"You get more out of the ad-dress on an envelope than any one I ever
see, sir," he observed shrewdly.

Fyles shrugged, not ill pleased at the compliment.

"It's practice, and--imagination. Those things, and--a good memory for
handwriting, also postmarks. Say, who's that coming down the southern
trail? Looks like----"

He broke off, shading his eyes from the burning sunlight of the
valley.

McBain needed no such protection. His mahogany face screwed itself up
until his eyes were mere slits.

"It ain't part of the patrol?" he said questioningly. "Yet it's one of
our fellers. Maybe it's a--despatch."

Fyles's brows drew sharply together in a frown of annoyance.

"If the chief's sent me the word I'm waiting for that way he's--a damn
fool. I asked him for cipher mail."

"Mr. Jason don't ever reckon on what those who do the work want. If
that feller's riding despatch, the whole valley will know it."

McBain's disgust was no less than that of Fyles. His hard face was
coldly set, and the despatch rider, if he were one, seemed likely to
get a rough reception.

"He'll make for the mail office," said Fyles shortly. "We'll go and
meet him."

He lifted Peter's reins, and the horse responded at a jump. In a
moment the two men were galloping down to Dy's office. Fyles was the
first out of the saddle, and the two stood waiting in silence for the
arrival of the horseman.

There was not much doubt as to the publicity of the man's arrival.
As if by magic a number of men, and as many women, appeared in the
vicin