tly to the back of the corral, inwardly much amused
at the tractability of the sheriff, who took his deputy obediently to
watch the gate.

Pink squatted comfortably in the shade of a willow and wished he dared
indulge in a cigarette, and wondered what scheme Harry was trying to
play.

Fifty feet away the big white horse still circled round and round,
rattling his bridle impatiently and shaking the saddle in an occasional
access of rage, and whinnying lonesomely out into the gloom.

So they waited and waited, and peered into the shadows, and listened to
the trampling horse fretting for freedom and his mates.

The cook had just called breakfast when Pink dashed up to the tent,
flung himself from his horse, and confronted Rowdy--a hollow-eyed,
haggard Rowdy who had not slept all night, and whose eyes questioned
anxiously.

"Well," Rowdy said, with what passed for composure, "did you get him?"

Pink leaned against his horse, with one hand reaching up and gripping
tightly the horn of the saddle. His cheeks held not a trace of color,
and his eyes were full of a great horror.

"They're bringin' him t' camp," he answered huskily. "We found a
horse--a big white horse they call the Fern Outlaw"--the Silent One
started and came closer, listening intently; evidently he knew the
horse--"saddled in the corral, and the gate tied shut. We dubbed around
a while, but we didn't find--Harry. So we camped down by the corral and
waited. We set there all night--and the horse faunching around inside
something fierce. When--it come daybreak--I seen something--by the
fence, inside. It was--Harry." Pink shivered and moistened his dry lips.
"That Fern Outlaw--some uh the boys know--is a devil t' mount. He'd got
Harry down--hell, Rowdy! it--it was sure--awful. He'd been there all
night--and that horse stomping."

"Shut up!" Rowdy turned all at once deathly sick. He had once seen a man
who had been trampled by a maddened, man-killing horse. It had not been
a pretty sight. He sat down weakly and covered his face with his shaking
hands.

The others stood around horrified, muttering disjointed, shocked
sentences.

Pink lifted his head from where it had fallen upon his arm. "One thing,
Rowdy--I done. You can tell Jessie. I shot that horse."

Rowdy dropped his hands and stood up. Yes, he must tell Jessie.

"You'll have to take the herd on," he told Pink in his masterful way.
"I'll catch you to-morrow some time. I've got to go back and tell