s,
uncertain life of the outlaw had appealed to his wild blood.

Sautee had said the money in his pocket was a good haul. Why not? He
looked again to eastward. Over the big mountain--into the timber--a
circling back--a straight cut east----

He knew he could do it. He had evaded posses before--posses composed
of trained men who were accustomed to take the man trail. It would
actually be rare sport to play with the crowd below. His left hand
dropped idly into his coat pocket, and he started as he fingered what
was there. Then his brow became furrowed, and he scowled.

"Maybe I ain't such a good guesser after all," he muttered. "Maybe I'm
just what I told Sautee--a fool."

He caught sight of a man and a boy above him. Another instant and they
were lost to view.

Rathburn suddenly put the spurs to his horse, and the dun surged up
the steep trail. As he rode, Rathburn took his rawhide lariat from its
place on the saddle. At a point above where the trail twisted about a
huge outcropping of rock he turned off, dismounted, and crept to the
top of the rocks. Quickly he surveyed the trail above. Then he slipped
back down to his horse, got in the saddle, and took up a position just
at the lower end of the outcropping, some little distance back from
the trail and above it. He held the lariat ready in his hands.

He sat his horse quietly--listening. The wind had died with the dawn,
and there was no sound in the hills. The sun was mounting in the sky
to eastward. Rathburn looked out over the timbered slopes below with
wistful eyes. Suddenly his gaze became alert. The sound of horses upon
the rocky trail above the outcropping came to his ears.

Gradually the sound became more and more distinct. He could hear the
hoofs of the horses striking against the rock of the trail. He shook
out the noose of his rope, and it sang as it whirled in the air.

The head of a horse had hardly pushed past the rock when Rathburn's
noose went swirling downward and dropped true over its target. The man
in the saddle loosed a string of curses as he felt the rawhide lariat
tighten about his arms and chest. His horse shied, and he was dragged
from the saddle, landing on his feet, but falling instantly.

The second horse reared back, and Rathburn's gun covered the boy in
the saddle. Rathburn, keeping tight hold on the rope hand over hand,
and retaining his gun in his right hand at the same time, ran down the
short pitch. The boy's horse became still