d. His face was haggard, but its white tenseness was gone. He
seemed as if he were reluctant to speak, to inflict more pain.

"Bostil," he began, huskily, "you're to send the King--an' Sarch--an'
Ben an' Two Face an' Plume to ransom Lucy! ... If you won't--then
Creech'll sell her to Cordts!"

What a strange look came into the faces of the riders! Did, they think
he cared more for horseflesh than for his own flesh and blood?

"Send the King--an' all he wants.... An' send word fer Creech to come
back to the Ford.... Tell him I said--my sin found me out!"

Bostil watched Joel Creech ride the King out upon the slope, driving
the others ahead. Sage King wanted to run. Sarchedon was wild and
unruly. They passed out of sight. Then Bostil turned to his silent
riders.

"Boys, seein' the King go thet way wasn't nothin'.... But what
crucifies me is--WILL THET FETCH HER BACK?"

"God only knows!" replied Holley. "Mebbe not--I reckon not! ... But,
Bostil, you forget Slone is out there on Lucy's trail. Out there ahead
of Joel! Slone he's a wild-hoss hunter--the keenest I ever seen. Do you
think Creech can shake him on a trail? He'll kill Creech, an' he'll lay
fer Joel goin' back--an' he'll kill him.... An' I'll bet my all he'll
ride in here with Lucy an' the King!"

"Holley, you ain't figurin' on thet red hoss of Slone's ridin' down the
King?"

Holley laughed as if Bostil's query was the strangest thing of all that
poignant day. "Naw. Slone'll lay fer Joel an' rope him like he roped
Dick Sears."

"Holley, I reckon you see--clearer 'n me," said Bostil, plaintively.
"'Pears as if I never had a hard knock before. Fer my nerve's broke. I
can't hope.... Lucy's gone! ... Ain't there anythin' to do but wait?"

"Thet's all. Jest wait. If we went out on Joel's trail we'd queer the
chance of Creech's bein' honest. An' we'd queer Slone's game. I'd hate
to have him trailin' me."

CHAPTER XVIII

On the day that old Creech repudiated his son, Slone with immeasurable
relief left Brackton's without even a word to the rejoicing Holley, and
plodded up the path to his cabin.

After the first flush of elation had passed he found a peculiar mood
settling down upon him. It was as if all was not so well as he had
impulsively conceived. He began to ponder over this strange depression,
to think back. What had happened to dash the cup from his lips? Did he
regret being freed from guilt in the simple minds of the
villagers--regret it becaus