wagon on the trail. He must definitely assure
himself he was still abreast of it. That was all important.

He could plainly hear it. Was he abreast? For the moment he was not
quite sure. Therefore, he further permitted his horses to quicken
their pace. It was better to----

He sat up, and a look of alarm peered out from under the brim of his
hat. The sound of a volley being fired over there on the trail
suddenly disconcerted him. This was something he had not reckoned on.
This was something he had wished to----

Hark! Again! An answering volley! The first was the heavier. The
latter was the familiar note of revolvers. A definite alarm took hold
of him. What was the meaning of it? An attack? Were the men on the
trail resisting the police? He had warned them. He----. Listen! The
shouting! Now he could distinctly hear the sound of galloping horses.

He leaned forward and grabbed the whip from its socket on the
dashboard, and brought it smartly down upon his horses' backs.

In an instant they leaped into a gallop, and he was racing over the
rough grass at a perilous pace.

The fools. The mad, idiotic fools. Resisting the police. An armed
attack on the police. If they killed any of them----. Great God, was
there ever such a pack of fools and madmen? It was no longer simple
contraband. It was no longer playing up a ridiculous law. It was----

Again he brought his whip down upon his horses. He must get through
now. He must get to the cache with the liquor, and trust to the luck
of the reckless to get away. Further concealment was out of the
question.

Hark, what was that?

Horsemen coming his way. Yes--horsemen. There could be no doubt of it.
The racing hoof-beats were unmistakable. Down came the whip again, and
the great team, with the saddle horse beside them, raced with bellies
low to the ground.

Now he had no thought but for getting away. His mind ran over the
possibilities. If only he could get clear with the liquor there might
yet be a chance of his comrades' and his own escape. He had no
knowledge of what had happened to the others, except that there was
shooting and pursuit. The only comfort to be drawn was from the
certainty in his mind that the first shooting he had heard was the
heavy firing of police carbines.

Hark! Yes, there was no doubt of the pursuit. Furthermore, the pursuit
was hard behind him. Why? The police must have heard the buckboard. He
flogged his horses to a greater effort. They were