henchman walked the floor, then he snarled
out, "Did they ask anything erbout me?"

"Jim Calloway 'lowed that somebody'd done seed you in this country, an'
I said no, that you was over thar in Virginny."

Again there was a moment's silence after which Dawson's orders came in
quick staccato violence.

"Bud, you've got ter go ter town, so's they'll believe thet story. Don't
come back hyar no more. Them fellers'll ride back before sundown. They
suspicions somethin' an' they'll jest about slip back ter make shore.
I'll take this feller an' lay out in the timber tell night. Here, give
me a lift."

The two of them raised me, still gagged, and carried me down the stairs.
Keeping the house between themselves and the general direction of the
road, they bore me by a path that ran along a cliff to a dense clump of
timber. Then the lesser villain started on with his ambling step,
pausing at the cabin to pick up the jug which was to corroborate his
claim that his business had to do with illicit distilling. He also
stopped indoors to obliterate all traces of human occupancy.

It was perhaps a mark of respect to my belligerency which led Dawson to
leave me gagged, but it was a painful compliment. He propped me up so
that I might have my back against a tree, and from our place of
concealment we could look down unseen on the house. This time my captor
did not favor me with conversation. He sat silent with his visage black
and snarling, and his hand from time to time crept involuntarily toward
his holster. As for myself, I was distinctly uncomfortable. The gag
cramped my jaws and the rope about my ankles was unnecessarily tight.
But during the three hours that I had to sustain this position, events
were transpiring which gave a certain interest to the situation. The men
who had come earlier returned, as Dawson's suspicion had prophesied.
They shouted as before and when they received no answer they approached
with a caution that carried me back to childhood stories of Indian
attacks on block houses. Finally they entered the place, and Dawson sat
there looking on, his hands wrapped about his knees and his shoulders
shaking with silent laughter, as he surveyed their elaborate caution.
They remained in the house for more than an hour and then reconnoitered
the premises, at one time passing very near our place of hiding. Once
more my custodian's lean hand caressed the grip of his pistol, and his
thumb slipped down the safety catch. But i