denly his eyes lit excitedly. He pointed out across the creek with
startling abruptness, in a direction where the land sloped gradually
upwards towards the more distant foothills, in a broken carpet of pine
woods. He was indicating a rift in the forest, where, for a long
stretch, a wide clearing had been made by the axes of the pioneers of
the camp.

"Ho, fellers!" he cried. "Get a peek yonder. Who's that?"

In an instant every eye followed the direction of his outstretched
arm. And the men stood silently watching the progress of a horseman
racing headlong through the clearing and making for the creek in front
of them as fast as his horse could lay legs to the ground. So silent
and intent did the group on the veranda become, that faint, yet
sharply distinct, even at that distance, the thrashing of the horse's
hoofs floated to their straining ears on the still morning air, and
set them wondering.

On came the man at a furious pace. He was leaning far over his horse's
neck, so that the whole weight of his body was well clear of the
saddle. And as he came the waiting men could plainly see the rise and
fall of his arm, as he mercilessly flogged his straining beast. It was
Joe Brand who first broke the silence.

"Looks like Sid Morton," he hazarded. "I kind o' seem to mind his
sorrel with four white legs. He's comin' from the right direction,
too. Guess his ranch is ten miles up yonder. Say, he's makin' a hell
of a bat."

"He sure is." Jim Wright, the oldest miner in the camp, blinked his
red-rimmed eyes as they watered with the strain of watching, "It's
trouble that's chasin' him," he added, with conviction. "Trouble o'
some kind."

"What sort o' trouble?" Minky spoke half to himself. Just now there
was only one idea of trouble in his mind.

Somebody laughed foolishly.

"There ain't many sorts o' trouble sets a man chasin' like that," said
a voice in the background.

Minky glanced round.

"What are they, Van?" he inquired, and turned back again to his
scrutiny of the on-coming horseman.

"Sickness, an'--guns," replied the man addressed as Van, with another
foolish laugh. "If it's Sid he ain't got anybody out on his ranch to
be sick, 'cep' his two 'punchers. An' I don't guess he'd chase for
them. Must be 'guns.'"

No one answered him. Everybody was too intent on the extraordinary
phenomenon. The man was nearing the creek. In a few seconds he would
be hidden from view, for the opposite bank lay far below them