gained the shadow of the nearest sluice-box. He clung to the
trestle-work, clung so closely you could scarce tell him apart from it.
He was like a rat, dark, furtive, sinister. Slowly I lifted the gun to
my shoulder. I had him covered.

I waited. Somehow I was loath to shoot. My nerves were a-quiver. Proof,
more proof, I said. I saw him working busily, lying flat alongside the
boxes. How crafty, how skilful he was! He was disconnecting the boxes.
He would let the water run to the ground; then, there in the exposed
riffles, would be his harvest. Would I shoot ... now ... now....

Then, in the midnight hush, my gun blazed forth. With one scream the man
tumbled down, carrying along with him the disconnected box. The water
rushed over the ground in a deluge. I must capture him. There he lay in
that pouring stream.... Now I had him.

In that torrent of icy water I grappled with my man. Over and over we
rolled. He tried to gouge me. He was small, but oh, how strong! He held
down his face. Fiercely I wrenched it up to the light. Heavens! it was
the Worm.

I gave a cry of surprise, and my clutch on him must have weakened, for
at that moment he gave a violent wrench, a cat-like twist, and tore
himself free. Men were coming, were shouting, were running in from all
directions.

"Catch him!" I cried. "Yonder he goes."

But the little man was shooting forward like a deer. He was in the
bushes now, bursting through everything, dodging and twisting up the
hill. Right and left ran his pursuers, mistaking each other for the
robber in the semi-gloom, yelling frantically, mad with the excitement
of a man-hunt. And in the midst of it all I lay in a pool of mud and
water, with a sprained wrist and a bite on my leg.

"Why didn't you hold him?" shouted Ribwood.

"I couldn't," I answered. "I saved your clean-up, and he got some of the
lead. Besides, I know who he is."

"You don't! Who is he?"

"Pat Doogan."

"You don't say. Well, I'm darned. You're sure?"

"Dead sure."

"Swear it in Court?"

"I will."

"Well, that's all right. We'll get him. I'll go into town first thing in
the morning and get out a warrant for him."

He went, but the next evening back he returned, looking very surly and
disgruntled.

"Well, what about the warrant?" said Hoofman.

"Didn't get it."

"Didn't get----"

"No, didn't get it," snapped Ribwood. "Look here, Hoofman, I met
Locasto. Black Jack says Pat was cached away, dead to all the world,