struggling
with his horse. They reeled, smashing through withered bushes and striking
slender trees, but at last he gained the mastery, and swung himself down
from the saddle. Already several mounted men were clustered about
something, while just before he joined them there was another crash, and a
little thin smoke drifted among the trees. Then, he saw one of them snap a
cartridge out of his rifle, and that a horse lay quivering at his feet. A
man stood beside it, and Grant was speaking to him, but Breckenridge
scarcely recognized his voice.

"We want everything you took from Quilter, the papers first," he said.
"Light that lantern, Jake, and then the rest stand round. I want you to
notice what he gives me."

The man, saying nothing, handed him a crumpled packet, and Grant, tearing
it open, passed the cover to the rest.

"You know that writing?" he said.

There was a murmur of assent, and Grant took a paper from those in his
hand, and gave it to a man who held it up in the blinking light of the
lantern. "Now," he said, "we want to make sure the dollars he took from
Quilter agree with it. Hand them over."

The prisoner took a wallet from his pocket and passed it across. "I guess
there's no use in me objecting. You'll find them there," he said.

"Count them," said Grant to the other man. "Two of you look over his
shoulder and tell me if he's right."

It took some little time, for the man passed the roll of bills to a
comrade, who, after turning them over, replaced them in the wallet.

"Yes, that's right, boys; it's quite plain, even if we hadn't followed up
his trail. Those dollars and documents were handed Quilter."

Grant touched Breckenridge. "Get up and ride," he said. "They'll send us
six men from each of the two committees. We'll be waiting for them at
Boston's when they get there. Now, there's just another thing. Look at the
magazine of that fellow's rifle."

A man took up the rifle, and snapped out the cartridges into his hand.
"Usual 44 Winchester. One of them gone," he said. "He wouldn't have
started out after Quilter without his magazine full."

The man rubbed the fringe of his deerskin jacket upon the muzzle, and then
held it up by the lantern where the rest could see the smear of the
fouling upon it.

"I guess that's convincing, but we'll bring the rifle along," he said.

Grant nodded and turned to the prisoner as a man led up a horse. "Get up,"
he said. "You'll have a fair trial, but if you