applied to a crack scanned the runner, who stood there alert.
Rogers was out of sight. Apparently the man in the cabin did not
recognize the runner, for now he flung the door wide and stepped out.
As he did so he saw the millman, whom he recognized, and swiftly
pulled a gun and shot at him. Even as he did so the younger man leaped
upon him, caught his wrist and wrenched the weapon from his hand. He
did the unexpected thing. Instead of fighting, or attempting to regain
the cabin, he deftly threw out a foot, tripped the runner against
Rogers, leaped over both as they fell, and dashed headlong for the
forest. Suddenly, as he gained the edge, several shots cracked
viciously, but none of them seemed to have taken effect. He snarled
loudly with excitement and plunged into the edge of the timber. Quite
as quickly as he gained it a man arose straight in his path, leaped
forward, caught him around the waist, and brought him to the ground.
Men came rushing forward, almost falling over one another, but arrived
too late to assist in the capture. Lying under and pinned to the earth
by the huge blacksmith, struggling for release, and cursing between
shut teeth, was the man who had been the watchman at the Croix d'Or
when its new proprietor arrived, the man Wolff, whose past had been
exposed by The Lily in the presence of some of those who were now his
captors.

"Might have guessed it," growled the smith. "It's like him, anyhow."

Two others reached over and assisted him. They caught Wolff by his
arms and lifted him to his feet, where they held him. Another man ran
his hand over his clothes and took out a big hunting knife, sheathed.
A further search revealed nothing save a small sum of money and a few
dynamite caps. The prisoner attempted to brazen it out.

"What do you mean by this, anyhow?" he demanded. "Bein' held up, am
I?"

No one replied to him directly, but it was Rogers who said, "Lift his
feet up there until we get a look at the shoes." Unceremoniously they
hoisted him clear of the ground, although in a sudden panic he kicked
and struggled. There was no doubt of it. The shoes were identical with
those worn by the man who had dynamited the reservoir dam. The
hobnails had betrayed him. For the first time he seemed to lose
courage and whined a protest.

"Where were you last night?" demanded the smith, frowning in his
face.

"Right here in this cabin. Been here two days now."

They walked him between them back to the do