elf was following the swift-riding Johnson with blazing eyes, and
suddenly he exploded in vindictive anger.

"Put a hole in him!" he cried, hoarsely. "Shoot him! Shoot him, Jim!
I--I can't!"

But neither could Jim. It was not his nature. Yet there was one thing he
could do. And this he did. He took fresh hold on the reins, and, grim
and deliberate and vengeful, swung about after Johnson. Further, in
swinging his horse about he purposely crowded the sorrel over also. This
brought both in direct pursuit of Johnson, and soon they overtook him.
But not because of their greater speed.

Suffering from an unwonted raking of spurs, Pat had taken to sudden
rebellion--balking at first, then beginning to buck, flinging about in
all directions except the way desired by the fugitive on his back.
Riding close and noting this, Jim felt glad beyond all decency. He even
chuckled with satisfaction, conscious almost of a desire to dismount and
hug the black. Then his feeling changed. He regretted his glee, became
fearful for the man, and called sharply to the horse. And now Pat came
to a stand. This for a moment only. Then of his own accord he sprang
forward again, speeding as eagerly now as but a moment before he had
rebelled, and soon he was galloping alongside the gray. Eminently
pleased with the whole performance, Jim again chuckled in delight and
burst forward at top speed.

Nor was this rebellion lost on Stephen. Riding well forward of the
others, when he saw Pat offering resistance he whipped and spurred his
mount in the hope that Pat would hold out. But Pat did not hold out,
though Stephen knew that he would have, had he but understood. Also,
there was his handicap--handicap of the others also. Neither he nor they
dared to fire lest they should shoot the black. Occasionally the thieves
spread apart, thus giving a chance for a shot with safe regard for Pat.
But these openings were infrequent. All they could do was ride in the
hope that the thieves might be seized with panic at last and give
themselves up.

But no such thought came to the fugitives. Johnson, after his galling
experience with Pat, looked more grimly determined than ever to get
away. Presently he struck back again. He drew a revolver, rose in his
stirrups, and fired twice to the rear. It was not without result. Up
from the rangers swept a chorus of yells, and Jim, turning his head, saw
the foremost pursuer, the young man who was evidently not a ranger,
circle he