him, all right." The voice came from the tonneau. "Maybe he
figured to give us the slip and get back to Denver. You did n't notice
the license number?" This to Fairchild. That bewildered person shook
his head.

"No. Did n't you?"

"Could n't--covered with dust when we first took the trail and never
got close enough afterward. But it was the same car--that's almost a
cinch."

"Let's go!" The sheriff was pressing a foot on the accelerator. Down
the hill went the car, to skid, then to make a short turn on to the
road which led away from the scent, leaving behind a man standing in
the middle of the road, staring at a ten-dollar bill,--and wondering
why he had lied!

CHAPTER IV

Wonderment which got nowhere. The sheriff's car returned before
Fairchild reached the bottom of the grade, and again stopped to survey
the scene of defeat, while Fairchild once more told his story, deleting
items which, to him, appeared unnecessary for consumption by officers
of the law. Carefully the sheriff surveyed the winding road before him
and scratched his head.

"Don't guess it would have made much difference which way he went,"
came ruefully at last, "I never saw a fellow turn loose with so much
speed on a mountain road. We never could have caught him!"

"Dangerous character?" Fairchild hardly knew why he asked the
question. The sheriff smiled grimly.

"If it was the fellow we were after, he was plenty dangerous. We were
trailing him on word from Denver--described the car and said he 'd
pulled a daylight hold-up on a pay-wagon for the Smelter Company--so
when the car went through Golden, we took up the trail a couple of
blocks behind. He kept the same speed for a little while until one of
my deputies got a little anxious and took a shot at a tire. Man, how
he turned on the juice! I thought that thing was a jack rabbit the way
it went up the hill! We never had a chance after that!"

"And you 're sure it was the same person?"

The sheriff toyed with the gear shift.

"You never can be sure about nothing in this business," came finally.
"But there 's this to think about: if that fellow was n't guilty of
something, why did he run?"

"It might have been a kid in a stolen machine," came from the back seat.

"If it was, we 've got to wait until we get a report on it. I guess
it's us back to the office."

The automobile went its way then, and Fairchild his, still wondering;
the sheriff's question, with a d