that way and watch out to cut him off if he
lights out before I come up."

Prescott understood the maneuver. By driving east the fugitive had lost
ground, and if he could push on fast enough, Prescott might reach a
position from which he could either run him down or turn him back into
the hands of the trooper.

When they came to the ravine and descended the deep shadowy hollow, they
parted company, Prescott following the opposite brink, because Wandle
would have to cross it lower down to regain the south trail. Once or
twice he left it for a while when the gorge twisted in a big loop away
from him, but he could see nothing of his companion. They had commanded a
wide sweep of plain when they crossed the rise, but now that he was on
low ground, the scattered bluffs obstructed his view. Indeed, he fancied
from their position that they would prevent Stanton's seeing the farm.
Once he stopped and listened with strained attention, but he could hear
only the faint sighing of a light wind among the trees he skirted and the
snapping of a twig, made by what means he could not tell, for there was
no sign of life in all the frozen wilds. It was very dreary, and Prescott
had little expectation of overtaking Wandle after the time they had lost,
but he doggedly rode on.

At length an indistinct sound, too regular for the wind to account for,
reached him, and grew louder when he pulled up his horse. It was a dull,
measured throbbing, and he knew it to be the beat of hoofs. It was
drawing nearer, but it might be made by Stanton riding to join him, and
he headed so as to clear one of the bluffs which prevented his seeing far
across the plain. On passing the end of the timber he saw another taller
patch half a mile off, which hid most of the prairie between him and the
farm, and knowing that time might be valuable he clung to the ravine,
urging the jaded Clydesdale to its fastest pace, which was very moderate.
He had gone about a mile, opening up the flat waste beyond the second
bluff, when the black shape of a team and rig appeared on it. The team
was being driven furiously, and in another few moments Prescott was not
surprised to see a horseman sweep out from the gloom of the trees behind
them. It was, however, soon obvious that the trooper was not gaining
ground; Wandle had got fresh horses, his rig was light, while Stanton's
mount had already carried him a long way. Prescott's Clydesdale had been
harder taxed, but he knew he could n