o know such wretchedness as I have known! Better that you should
die now! Better you had never been born! Why was I born? Why was I set
adrift in this wretched, wicked old world? Not one thing in life has
ever gone right with me!"

A crashing sound gave her a start, and she saw the man returning on a
run. As he passed a corner of the old hut one foot seemed to break
through the ground, and he went down. With some difficulty, he drew
forth his leg from a hole into which he had plunged. Pausing, he looked
down into that hole, and far beneath he caught a faint mercurylike
glitter.

"An old well," he muttered. "The brush and deadwood had fallen over the
mouth of it and hidden it. I came near dropping in there myself."

"Are you hurt, Selwin?" called the woman.

"No," he answered; "but I came mighty near falling into a trap."

As he approached her she observed a look on his face that gave her a
shuddery chill.

"Let me take the child," he said.

"No; I'll carry him a little while. Did you see anything of the
pursuers?"

"See them?" he snarled. "Curse them, yes!"

"They're still on our track?"

"Following it like hounds--like hounds! There are four of them. I know
Merriwell and Hodge. The other two are boys. One of the boys is leading,
and he runs, stooped forward, with his eyes on the ground. No Indian
ever followed a trail more accurately than he has followed ours."

"No Indian?" cried the woman. "You say he is a boy. Then it must be
young Joe Crowfoot! I've seen him. He's one of the boys at Merriwell's
school. He is a full-blooded Indian."

"That accounts for it!" rasped the man. "That explains my failure to
deceive them. The rest of the pursuers are far away on the main road. I
saw them. They're in a carriage. Give me that child, Bessie."

He sought to take the baby from her.

"What are you going to do?" she asked, her hand shaking as she put it up
to hold him off.

"There's only one thing to be done. If we're captured with the child in
our possession, we go to the jug. If the child is not in our possession
and cannot be found, we can swear we know nothing about it. The other
one----"

"You're still mad, Selwin Harris! Would you murder this helpless
infant?"

"Murder?"

"Yes. There's murder in your heart--in your face! I see it!"

"Look here, Bessie; there's only one show for us to escape. That kid has
encumbered me frightfully. I couldn't help you. That child out of the
way, I can help you. We'l