t and watchful with the furtive watchfulness so easy to
detect in those of partial color. They suggested that his ears, too,
were no less alert, and now and again this suggestion received
confirmation in the quick turn of the head in a direction which said
plainly he was listening for any unusual sound from behind him.

One of these turns of the head remained longer than usual. Then, with
quite a sharp movement of the body, he swung one of the great pistols
hanging at his waist, so that its barrel rested across his thigh, and
its butt was ready to his hand. Then, with a malicious chuckle, he
took a firmer grip of his reins, and his jaded horses raised their
drooping heads.

The object of his change of attitude quickly became apparent, for, a
few moments later, the distant sound of hoof-beats, far behind him,
echoed through the still valley.

He checked his horses still more, and it became evident that he wished
those who were behind him to come up before he reached the village.
The smile on his evil face became more humorous, and he spat out a
stream of tobacco juice with great enjoyment.

The sounds grew louder, and he turned about and peered down the
darkening valley. There was nothing and no one in sight yet amid the
woodland shadows. Only the clatter of hoofs was growing with each
moment. He finally turned back and resettled himself. His attitude now
became one of even more studied indifference, but his gun remained
close to his hand.

The sounds behind him were drawing nearer. His tired horses pricked
their ears. They, too, seemed to become interested. The pursuers came
on. They were less than a hundred yards behind. In a few moments they
were directly behind. Then the man lazily turned his head. For some
moments he stared stupidly at the three uniformed figures who had
descended upon him. Then he suddenly sat up and brought his horses to
a standstill. The policemen were surrounding his wagon.

Sergeant McBain was abreast of him on one side, one trooper drew up
his horse at the other side, while the third came to a halt at the
rear of the wagon and peered into it.

"Evenin', sergeant," cried the teamster, with deliberate cheeriness.
"Makin' Rocky Springs?"

McBain's hard blue eyes looked straight into the half-breed's face. He
was endeavoring to fix and hold those dark, furtive eyes. But it was
not easy.

"Maybe," he said curtly.

Then he glanced swiftly over the outfit. The sweat-streaked horses
inte