leagues around,
it serves the prairie pirates as a finger-post to direct them across the
steppe; for by chance it stands right on their route. It is visible
from the edge of the pebble-strewn tract, but only when there is a
cloudless sky and shining sun. Now, the one is clouded, the other
unseen, and the tree cannot be distinguished.

For some minutes the robbers remain halted, but without dismounting.
Seated in the saddle, they strain their eyes along the horizon to the
west.

The Fates favour them; as in this world is too often the case with
wicked men, notwithstanding many saws to the contrary. The sun shoots
from behind a cloud, scattering his golden gleams broad and bright over
the surface of the plain. Only for an instant, but enough to show the
cottonwood standing solitary on the crest of the ridge.

"Thank the Lord for that glimp o' light!" exclaims Borlasse, catching
sight of the tree, "Now, boys; we see our beacon, an' let's straight to
it. When we've got thar I'll show ye a bit of sport as 'll make ye
laugh till there wont be a whole rib left in your bodies, nor a button
on your coats--if ye had coats on."

With this absurd premonition he presses on--his scattered troop
reforming, and following.

CHAPTER SEVENTY TWO.

THE PRAIRIE STOCKS.

Silent is Clancy, sullen as a tiger just captured and encaged. As the
moments pass, and he listens to the lawless speech of his captors, more
than ever is he vexed with himself for having so tamely submitted to be
taken.

Though as yet no special inhumanity has been shown him, he knows there
will ere long. Coarse jests bandied between the robbers, whispered
innuendoes, forewarn him of some fearful punishment about to be put upon
him. Only its nature remains unknown.

He does not think they intend killing him outright. He has overheard
one of his guards muttering to the other, that such is not the chiefs
intention, adding some words which make the assurance little
consolatory. "Worse than death" is the fragment of a sentence borne
ominously to his ears.

Worse than death! Is it to be torture?

During all this time Borlasse has not declared himself, or given token
of having recognised his prisoner. But Clancy can tell he has done so.
He saw it in the Satanic glance of his eye as they first came face to
face. Since, the robber has studiously kept away from him, riding at
the head of the line, the prisoners having place in its centre.

On arriv