or the chief cause of all
their trouble, Race Moran. They were not surprised to find his office
vacant, but as the night wore on and the saffron hues of dawn appeared
in the sky, and still he was not found, they became anxious. Half of the
gratification of their efforts would be gone, unless the agent was made
to pay the penalty of his crimes. Wade inquired of the men he met, and
they too had seen nothing of the wily agent. The search carried them to
the further end of the town without result, when Wade turned to Santry.

"Hunt up Lem and see if he knows anything," he said. "I'll meet you in
front of the hotel. I'm going to ride out and see if I can dig up any
news on the edge of town. Moran may have made a get-away."

With a nod, Santry whirled his horse and dashed away, and Wade rode
forward toward an approaching resident, evidently of faint heart, who
meant, so it seemed, to be in for the "cakes" even though he had missed
the "roast." A little contemptuously, the ranchman put his question.

"Yes, I seen him; leastwise, I think so," the man answered. "He went
past my house when the shootin' first started. How are the boys makin'
out?"

"Which way did he go?" the cattleman demanded, ignoring the other's
question. The resident pointed in the direction taken by Moran. "Are you
sure?"

"If it was him, I am, and I think it was."

Wade rode slowly forward in the indicated direction, puzzled somewhat,
for it led away from Sheridan, which should have been the agent's
logical objective point. But a few moments' consideration of the
situation made him think that the route was probably chosen for
strategic reasons. Very likely Moran had found his escape at the other
end of the town blocked, and he meant to work to some distant point
along the railroad. Wade drew rein, with the idea of bringing his
friends also to the pursuit, but from what his informant had told him
Moran already had a long start and there was no time to waste in
summoning assistance. Besides, if it were still possible to overtake the
quarry, the ranchman preferred to settle his difference with him, face
to face, and alone.

He urged his horse into a lope, and a little beyond the town dismounted
to pick up the trail of the fugitive, if it could be found. Thanks to a
recent shower, the ground was still soft, and the cattleman soon picked
up the trail of a shod horse, leading away from the road and out upon
the turf. By the growing light, he was able to fo