rded by tall fences of barbed-wire. They could be jumped,
but jumping was no easy matter for a tiring horse, and Barry saw, with
a sigh of relief, a sharp gulch to the left which cut straight through
that region of broken farms and headed north and east pointing like an
arrow in the direction of the fords. He swung down into it without a
thought and pressed on. The bottom was gravelly, here and there, from
the effect of the waters which had once washed through the ravine and
cut these sides so straight, but over the greater part of the bottom
sand had drifted, and the going was hardly worse than the hilly
stretches above.

The sides grew higher, now, with great rapidity. Already they were up to
the shoulder of Satan, now up to his withers, and from behind the roar
of the posse racing at full speed, filled the gulch with confusion of
echoes. They must be racing their horses as if they were entering the
homestretch, as if they were sure of the goal. It was strange.

Chapter XXXIII. The Jump

He brought Satan back to a hand canter, and so he pulled around the next
curve of the gulch and saw the trap squarely in front. He came to a full
halt. For he saw a tall, strong barbed-wire fence stretching across the
stream-bed, and beyond the fence were a litter of chicken-coops, iron
bands from broken barrels, and a thousand other of those things which
brand the typical western farm-yard; above the top of the bank to his
left he caught a glimpse of the sharp roof of the house.

He looked back, but it was far too late to turn, ride down the ravine
to a place where the bank could be scaled, and cut across country once
more. The posse came like a whirlwind, yelling, shooting as if they
hoped to attract attention, and attention they certainly won, for now
Dan saw a tall middle-aged fellow, his long beard blowing over one
shoulder as he ran, come down into the farm-yard with a double-barreled
shotgun in his hands. He was a type of those who do not know what it
is to miss their target--probably because ammunition comes so high; and
with a double load of buckshot it was literally death to come within his
range.

Dan knew that a great many chances may be taken against a revolver and
even a rifle can be tricked, but it is suicide to flirt with a shotgun
in the hands of one used to bring down doves as they sloped out of the
air toward a water-hole. The farmer stood with his broad-brimmed straw
hat pushed far back on his head looking