set foot on the table plain, a
party of mounted men, coming up from the San Saba bottom, strikes it on
the opposite edge. It is scarce necessary to say that these are the
pursuing settlers. Dupre at their head. Hardly have they struck out
into the sterile waste, before getting bewildered, with neither trace
nor track to give them a clue to the direction. But they have with them
a surer guide than the foot-prints of men, or the hoof-marks of horses--
their prisoner Bill Bosley.

To save his life, the wretch told all about his late associates and is
now conducting the pursuers to Coyote Creek.

Withal, he is not sure of the way; and halts hesitatingly.

Woodley mistaking his uncertainty for reluctance, puts a pistol to his
head, saying:--

"Bill Bosley! altho' I don't make estimate o' yur life as more account
than that o' a cat, it may be, I spose, precious to yurself. An' ye kin
only save it by takin' us strait to whar ye say Jim Borlasse an' his
beauties air. Show sign o' preevarication, or go a yurd's length out o'
the right track, an'--wal, I won't shoot ye, as I'm threetenin'. That
'ud be a death too good for sech as you. But I promise ye'll get yer
neck streetched on the nearest tree; an' if no tree turn up, I'll tie ye
to the tail o' my horse, an' hang ye that way. So, take yur choice. If
ye want to chaw any more corn, don't 'tempt playin' possum."

"I hain't no thought of it," protests Bosley, "indeed I hain't, Sime.
I'm only puzzled 'bout the trail from here. Tho' I've been accrost this
plain several times, I never took much notice, bein' with the others, I
only know there's a tree stands by itself. If we can reach that, the
road's easier beyont. I think it's out yonnerways."

He points in particular direction.

"Wal, we'll try that way," says Sime, adding: "Ef yer story don't prove
strait, there'll come a crik in yur neck, soon's it's diskivered to be
crooked. So waste no more words, but strike for the timmer ye speak
o'."

The alacrity with which Bosley obeys tells he is sincere.

Proof of his sincerity is soon after obtained in the tree itself being
observed. Far off they descry it outlined against the clear sky,
solitary as a ship at sea.

"Yonner it air, sure enuf!" says Woodley first sighting it. "I reck'n
the skunk's tellin' us the truth, 'bout that stick o' timber being a
finger-post. Tharfor, no more dilly-dallying but on to't quick as our
critters can take us. Thar's a man'