wn
some precipitous gully. At length he saw a yellow glow ahead, and soon
afterward came upon a shack in an opening. Small logs were strewn about
it and among them stood tall piles of cordwood. The door opened as he
rode up and a man's dark figure appeared in the entrance.

"Have you seen a rig going south?" Prescott asked.

"I heard one, about seven or eight minutes ago. The fellow didn't seem to
be driving quick."

"Thanks," responded Prescott, and rode off with a feeling of
satisfaction.

He had gained on Wandle, who had probably been delayed by some mischance
on the trail. If the Clydesdale could be urged to a faster pace, he might
overtake him, but this must be done before the fugitive could hire a
fresh team. Next, he began to wonder what progress Stanton had made, for
the relative positions of Wandle and the constable were now important. If
Stanton were far enough ahead, he would reach the spot where the trails
united before the absconder, in which case they would have him between
them and it would be better for Prescott to save his horse's strength,
because speed might be required. On the contrary, if Stanton were not yet
abreast of him, he ought to push on as fast as possible. Wandle, he was
glad to remember, could not know how closely he was being followed.

Turning the matter over in his mind, he rode at a moderate pace while the
rough track wound deeper into the bluff. The partial obscurity was now
extremely puzzling. Here and there a slender trunk glimmered in the faint
moonlight that streamed down between the branches, and patches of
brightness lay across the path, but this intensified the darkness of the
background. It was hard to tell which of the dim avenues that kept
opening up was the trail; the state of the short scrub could no longer be
used as a guide, for the cordwood cutters had not penetrated so far with
their sled.

Prescott knew that he must go forward, however; and he was gazing
anxiously ahead with eyes that ached from long exposure to the reflection
from the snow when the Clydesdale stumbled violently. He had scarcely
time to clear his feet of the stirrups before the beast went down and he
was flung into a clump of brush with a force that nearly drove the breath
out of him. For a few moments he lay still, dimly conscious that the
horse was struggling in the snow; and then, rousing himself with an
effort, he got up unsteadily. He felt badly shaken, but he saw the horse
scramble to its