to all
appearances) the same coat on his arm!

The stranger gave no sign of the recognition being mutual, but stepped
off upon the roadside to let the buggy pass.

"How are you?" said Jack, coming up to him, and drawing rein; while Lion
snuffed suspiciously at the rogue's heels.

"All right, stranger; how are you yourself?" And a pair of reckless dark
eyes flashed saucily up at Jack.

"Better than I was that night after you ran off with my horse!" Jack
replied.

"Glad you're improving. Wife on the mending hand? And how are the little
daisies? Which is the road to Halleluia Corners? I branch off here; good
day, fair stranger."

These words were rattled off with great volubility, which seemed all the
greater because of their surprising irrelevancy; while the head, thrown
gayly to one side, balanced the quid in the bulged cheek.

Before Jack could answer, the youth with a wild laugh struck off from
the road, and began to walk fast toward the woodland. Jack called after
him,--

"Hold on! I want to speak with you!"

"Speak quick, then; I'm bound for the Kingdom,--will you go to glory
with me?" the rogue shouted back over his shoulder, with a defiant grin,
never slacking his pace.

Jack gave Snowfoot a touch of the whip, reined out of the track, and
drove after him.

The fellow at the same time quickened his step to a run, and before he
could be overtaken he had come to rough ground, where fast driving was
dangerous.

Jack pulled up unwillingly, revolving rapidly in his mind what he
should do. Though he had recovered his horse, he felt the strongest
desire to have the thief taken and punished. Moreover, he had lately
seen the truckman to whom the stolen animal was sold, and had promised
to do what he could to help him obtain justice.

He might have levelled his gun and threatened to shoot the fugitive; but
he would not have felt justified in carrying out such a threat, and
recent experience had disgusted him with the shooting business.

He would have jumped from the wagon, and followed on foot; but, though a
good runner, he was convinced that his heels were no match for the
stranger's. There was then but one thing to do.

"Stop, or I'll let the dog take you!" Jack yelled.

For reply, the fugitive threw up his hand over his shoulder, with
fingers spread and thumb pointing toward the mid-region of countenance
occupied by the nose; which did not, however, take the trouble to turn
and make itself visible.