beast with only a single bullet to his aid.

The querulous cries of the dog here and there showed that the scent
had been lost where the negro had splashed through some pool. Then,
abruptly, a sharp volley announced recovery of the track. A minute
later a huge black-and-tan body catapulted from the thicket into the
open space of the trail. From his cover, Zeke watched excitedly. The
negro, who had stood with club swung back ready for the blow, was
caught at disadvantage by the pursuer's emergence at an unexpected
point. The branches of the thicket projected to prevent a blow. The
dog, silent now, hurled itself straight at the man's throat. But the
negro, alert to the peril, avoided the charge by a swift spring to the
side. Zeke heard the great jaws of the beast click shut as it shot
harmlessly past its foe; he heard the savage growl with which it
whirled to renew the attack. As it leaped a second time the negro's
club fell true in a mighty stroke--caught the creature fair on the
skull, stopped it in midair, dropped it dead to the ground.

Zeke's turn in the action was come, at last. Even as the negro stood
gloating over his victory, the mountaineer, with leveled rifle,
stepped from the concealment of the cypress, and cried a sharp
command:

"Drop thet-thar club, an' stand still whar ye be, if ye don't want to
be kilt!"

The effect on the exultant negro was almost pitiful. Where had been
the assurance of final escape was now the certainty of capture. The
shock of contrasting emotions was too much for the fellow's strength,
coarse-fibered and hardened as he was. He stared at Zeke with
protruding eyes, his face grown gray. His thrilling joy in the slaying
of the dog was lost in the black despair of defeat. The club fell from
the trembling fingers, and in the next moment the man himself sagged
to the ground and crouched whimpering, whining, in a child-like
abandon to fatigue and grief. Then, presently, while the captor
watched in some perplexity, the moaning ceased. In its stead came a
raucous rhythm--the sleep of utter exhaustion.

A sound of footsteps on the path caught Zeke's ear. He turned, and saw
close at hand a short, stockily built, swarthy-complexioned man of
middle age, who came swinging forward at a lope. The newcomer halted
at sight of the mountaineer.

"Seen anything of a big nigger or a hound passing this way?" he
demanded.

Zeke nodded, gravely.

"Ye'll find the two of 'em right thar." He raised t