ne which he can take, pursuing the route which he
does."

"And upon that he will not go more than fifteen or twenty miles in the
day. But not so with _him_--not so with _him_. He will scarcely be
content to move at that pace, and there will be no hope in that way to
overtake him."

Rivers spoke in soliloquy, and Dillon, though accustomed to many of the
mental irregularities of his superior, exhibited something like surprise
as he looked upon the lowering brows and unwonted indecision of the
outlaw.

"Of whom does the captain speak?" was his inquiry.

"Of _whom?_--of _him_--of _him_!" was the rather abrupt response of the
superior, who seemed to regard the ignorance of his lieutenant as to the
object in view, with almost as much wonder as that worthy entertained at
the moment for the hallucinations of his captain.

"Of whom should I speak--of whom should I think but the one--accursed,
fatal and singular, who--" and he stopped short, while his mind, now
comprehending the true relationship between himself and the person
beside him, which, in his moody self-examination, he had momentarily
forgotten, proceeded to his designs with all his wonted coherence.

"I wander, Dillon, and am half-asleep. The fact is, I am almost worn out
with this unslumbering motion. I have not been five hours out of the
saddle in the last twenty-four, and it requires something more of rest,
if I desire to do well what I have on hand--what, indeed, we both have
on hand."

There was something apologetic in the manner, if not in the language, of
the speaker; and his words seemed to indicate, if possible, an excuse
for the incoherence of his address, in the physical fatigue which he had
undergone--in this way to divert suspicion from those mental causes of
excitement, of which, in the present situation, he felt somewhat
ashamed. Pouring out a glass of liquor, and quaffing it without pause,
he motioned to the lieutenant to do the same--a suggestion not possible
for that person to misunderstand--and then proceeded to narrate such
portions of the late occurrences in and about the village as it was
necessary he should know. He carefully suppressed his own agency in any
of these events, for, with the policy of the ancient, he had learned, at
an early period in his life, to treat his friend as if he might one day
become his enemy; and, so far as such a resolution might consistently be
maintained, while engaged in such an occupation as his, he rigidly