pered Vic Gregg, and faded into the night, running.

The others, without a word among themselves, gathered their horses and
struck down the valley out of Alder. The padding and swish of the sand
about the feet of their mounts; the very creaking of the saddle leather
seemed to alarm them, and they were continually turning and looking
back. That is, Gus Reeve and Ronicky Joe manifested these signs of
trouble, but Sliver Waldron, riding in the center of the trio, never
moved his head. They were hardly well out of the town when a swift rush
of hoof beats swept up from behind, and a horseman darted into the pale
mist of the valley bending low over his pommel to cut the wind of his
riding.

"Who is it?"

"Vic Gregg!" muttered Gus Reeve. "Stir, along, Sliver. Vic ain't
lingerin' any!"

But Sliver Waldron drew rein, and let his horse go on at a walk.

"Hearin' you talk, Ronicky," he said, "you'd think you was really scared
of Dan Barry."

Ronicky Joe stiffened in his saddle and peered through the uncertain
light to make out if Sliver were jesting. But the latter seemed
perfectly grave.

"A gent would almost think," went on Sliver, "that we three was runnin'
away from Barry, instead of goin' out to set a trap for him."

There was something nearly akin to a grunt from Gus Reeve, but Ronicky
merely continued to stare at the leader.

"'S a matter of fact," said Sliver, "when Vic was talkin' I sort of felt
the chills go up my back. How about you, Ronicky?"

"I'll tell a man," sighed Ronicky. "While Vic was talkin' I seen that
devil comin' on his hoss like he done when he broke out of the cabin
that night. I'll tell you straight, Sliver. I had my gun drilled on him.
I couldn't of missed; but after I fired he kept straight on. It was like
puncturin' a shadow!"

"Sure," nodded Sliver. "Shootin' by night ain't ever a sure thing."

Ronicky wiped his heated brow.

"So I sent Vic away before he had a chance to get real nervous. But when
he comes back--well, boys, it'll be kind of amusin' to watch Vic's face
when he saunters into town tomorrow and sees Dan Barry--maybe dead,
maybe in the irons. Eh?"

Only a deep silence answered him, but in the interest which his words
excited the terror seemed to have left Ronicky and Gus. They rode close,
their heads toward Sliver alone.

"There goes Vic," mused Sliver. "There he goes--go on. Mac, you old
fool!--scared to death, ridin' for his life. And why? Because he
believes some gh