away, in fact.

Rathburn called upon his horse by voice and spur for all the speed
there was in him. He could see the fugitive ahead urging his horse to
its utmost. The race was on in earnest. Thus they came to a long
stretch of open, level trail. Here Rathburn's horse began slowly to
gain.

The man ahead turned in his saddle, and Rathburn saw the glint of
sunlight on dull metal. He brought out his own gun. But the other did
not fire. He kept on, half-turned in the saddle, watching his pursuer
keenly. Rathburn continued to gain upon him.

They now were less than half a mile apart, and the fugitive suddenly
turned his horse due north, straight toward the hills, and sent a
volley of shots whistling in his pursuer's direction.

Rathburn held his fire. The bullets flew wide of their mark, and he
could see his man reloading as he rode. Rathburn now cut across,
racing for the point where he thought the other would reach the hills.
His horse rose to the emergency with a tremendous burst of speed. He
was close enough now to shoot with a reasonable certainty of scoring a
hit on his flying target. But he had no desire to kill, and he could
not be certain, at that distance, of merely wounding his quarry. He
also recoiled from the thought that he might accidently hit the
other's splendid horse.

Just ahead a thin line of straggling pines ranged down the gradual
slope from the first low ridge of the hills for which they were
heading. Rathburn swung north and gained the shelter of this screen
just as the other rider again began firing. The trees now were between
them, and each was an equal distance from the gentle slope of the
ridge.

Rathburn called upon his horse for a last, heartbreaking burst of
speed and the dun made good. At the beginning of the slope to the
ridge, Rathburn veered sharply to the right and burst through the
trees a scant rod or two from his man. His gun was leveled straight at
the other, who had been caught momentarily off his guard.

"Drop it!" shouted Rathburn, racing toward him.

The man's right hand fell to his side while he checked his horse with
his left. Rathburn rode in close to him and they came to a halt.
Rathburn's lips were curled in a smile of contempt. The other stared
at him, white-faced, his eyes wide and inquiring. The fingers of his
right hand relaxed, and the gun fell to the ground. Rathburn swung low
in the saddle and scooped it up, thrusting it into a pocket of his
coat.

"Now b