tly controlling the unwieldy affair, and
keeping it as nearly as possible to the centre, by the noiseless
movement of a hand under water. The men scarcely ventured to breathe
and it seemed as though they were ages slowly sidling along, barely
able to perceive that they really moved. They must have gone a hundred
yards or more before there was any alarm. Then a voice spoke from the
bank to the right, followed almost instantly by the flash of a gun and
a sharp report. The flare lit up the stream, and the bullet thudded
into the log, without damage.

"What was it, Jack?" the voice unmistakably Lacy's. "Did you see
something?"

"Nothin' but a floatin' log," was the disgusted reply, "but I made a
bull's-eye."

"That's better than you did any time before to-day. Where is it? Oh,
yes, I see the blame thing now. You don't need ter be any quail-hunter
ter hit that. It's goin' 'bout a mile an hour. However, there is no
harm done; the shot will show those fellows that we are awake out here."

Slowly the log floated on, vanishing in the darkness. No other alarm
greeted its progress, and at last, confident that they were already
safely below the extent of the guard lines, the two men, clinging to
its wet sides, ventured to kick out quietly, and thus hasten its
progress. It came ashore at the extreme end of the curve, and, after a
moment of intent listening, the voyagers crept up the sand, and in
whispers discussed the next effort of their escape. The belts were
unstrapped from about the log, reloaded with cartridges, and buckled
around dripping waists before they clambered cautiously up the low
bank. The road was just beyond, but between them and it arose the
almost shapeless form of a small house, a mere darker shadow in the
gloom of the night.

"Where are we?" questioned Westcott.

"Just back of old Beecher's shack. He's trucking down Benson way, but
is liable to have some grub stored inside. I was countin' on this for
our commissary department. Come on, Jim; time is money just now."

The door was unlocked, and they trusted wholly to the sense of touch to
locate the object of their search. However, as there were but two
rooms, not overly stocked with furniture, the gloom was not a serious
obstacle, so that in less than ten minutes they emerged once more into
the open bearing their spoils--Westcott, a slab of bacon and a small
frying-pan; Brennan, a paper sack of corn meal, with a couple of
specimens of c