Leland's iron nature asked such a thing as sympathy it would
have received little satisfaction from the interview that night in his
study. MacKelvey's greeting to him was, "Martin, that girl of yours is
a wonder! There's not a man in the country would have tackled the
thing she did to-day."

"Pshaw," grunted Hume, his sneering manner having come back to him with
his growing displeasure. "It was simple enough for all of its
spectacular staging."

"Was it?" MacKelvey asked sharply. "I'll bet you five hundred dollars,
Mr. Hume, that you're not the man to do it!"

Hume lifted his shoulders for answer and kicked viciously at the
andirons on the hearth.

"So you let him get clean away?" demanded Martin, flinging himself into
his chair at the table and glowering at MacKelvey. "Why didn't you
follow him up?"

"Because I wasn't a fool. Wouldn't I cut a pretty picture slipping
around on a pair of sticks trying to catch up with the strongest ski
man in the county! He'd double up on me every mile. And with the
night coming on I'd stand a great chance finding him, wouldn't I?"

"What are you going to do about it then?"

MacKelvey spat thoughtfully at the fire.

"I'm going to nab him the first chance I get. And I'm not in the habit
of carrying a warrant around in my pocket until I wear it out, either."

"You are going out after him in the morning?"

MacKelvey again attacked the fire with more thoughtfulness, truer
precision than before.

"Nope. I'm going back to El Toyon while I can get out. There's about
ten feet more snow due in the next two weeks, Martin."

"So," cried Hume. "That's the way you serve a warrant, is it? You are
going to let the man get away if he wants to, and he has shown us
already how he feels about that! You are going to let him slip down to
Mexico or work up to the Canadian line."

"Easy, Mr. Hume," said MacKelvey slowly. "I've been sheriff in this
county for seventeen years. Name me the name of any man who's been
wanted and who hasn't been brought in. If I stuck here, running around
like a rabbit in the snow, Shandon would have the chance to get out, if
he wanted it. And I don't believe that he does want it. But if I'm
back in El Toyon to-morrow with the wires busy there won't be a hole in
the web for a blue bottle to buzz through. He can't eat snow, you
know. I'll put a man up here to see he don't slip back to the Bar L-M.
And I don't say I won't go myself or send Johnson