mettle. Their courage was the courage
of the man behind them. And only when his courage failed him would
their spirit falter. They swept up the long stretch as though the
effort were a pastime. With ears pricked forward, nostrils gushing,
their veins standing out like whipcord through their satin coats, they
moved as though every stride were an expression of the joy of living.
And the man's steel muscles were held at tension to keep their gait
within the bounds of reason.

As they neared the hill-top he turned and glanced back over his
shoulder. There lay the camp nestling on the far side of the creek.
There stood Minky's store, lording it over its lesser fellows with the
arrogance of successful commerce. He could see a small patch of
figures standing about its veranda, and he knew that many eyes were
watching for a final sight of him at the moment when he should vanish
over the hill.

They were friendly eyes, too, he knew. They were the eyes of men who
wished him well. But he doubted if those good wishes were for his own
sake. He knew he was not a man whom men loved. And he smiled grimly as
he glanced down at the chest of gold in the body of the cart.

In a moment his eyes were looking out ahead again, and all thought of
those he was leaving behind left his mind.

The hill-top passed, the horses swung down into a deep, long valley.
It was in this valley, some six or seven miles farther on, he had
encountered Scipio in Minky's buckboard. He thought of that meeting
now, and remembered many things; and as recollection stirred his teeth
shut tight till his jaw muscles stood out like walnuts through his
lean cheeks. He had promised Scipio that day. Well, his mind was
easier than his feelings. He was confident. But he was stirred to a
nervous desire to be doing.

Nothing escaped his watchful eyes. Every tree, every bush, every rise
and hollow passed under his closest scrutiny. But this was simply his
way, a way that had long since been forced into a habit. He did not
anticipate any developments yet. The battle-cry was yet to be sounded.
He knew the men he was likely to deal with better than any other
class. He knew their ways, their subtleties. Who should know them
better? Had not years of his life been spent--?

He laughed aloud, but his laughter rang without mirth. And his horses,
taking the sound to be a command, broke suddenly into a gallop. It was
the sympathy between man and beast asserting itself. They, too,
p