noticed that Lutterfield
was not with them. His reappearance was far more dramatic than his going.
A horse clattered up from behind at a pace not in keeping with the rough
footing, and the rider drew level with Kitchell.

"Soldiers comin', Colonel. Got 'em a couple o' them Pima Scouts sniffin'
th' trail an' some o' Rennie's men with 'em, too!"

"It ain't true!" Shannon's protest was loud.

"I seed em--bright an' clear--mos' up to where we stopped last. Iffen you
wants to sit 'round waitin' for 'em, do it! I'm clearin' out--ain't nobody
can say Amos Lutterfield was here."

"Nobody but us," Shannon said coldly.

"Lutterfield!"

Even Drew's head came around at that. The moonlight was silver bright on
the barrel of the Colt in Kitchell's grasp. "Sergeant, suppose you take
precautions to insure the continued company of this man. I don't intend,
Lutterfield, to let you curry favor by pointing out our trail to the army.
I'd answer your proposed desertion as it deserves--with a bullet--but a body
on our trail would provide an excellent signpost for any pursuers."

The rope which had been coiled on Wayne's saddle swung out in a perfect
loop and tightened about Lutterfield, pinning his arms to his sides. His
protests and roars of anger went unheeded and he rode on as much a
prisoner as Drew.

"Move out." Kitchell motioned with the Colt. "Those two peaks
ahead--according to Benito, the cut we want is between them. Across that
we're free. The army can't follow us into Mexico."

But Kitchell still kept to a cautious pace. The risk of losing a mount was
one he dared not run. Drew debated the idea of booting his own horse from
their line of march and trying to ride for it. He need only hide out and
wait for the troopers to pick him up. If he had had hands free and been
able to move in the saddle to dodge bullets, he might have tried it.

The night wore on and Drew was driven to admiring the outlaws' nerve.
Kitchell did not hurry; in fact he followed the old cavalry custom of
resting mounts at regular intervals, seeing that each of the weary horses
had nostrils and mouth wiped out with a dampened cloth. At the third halt
he allowed them a drink of water before a smaller portion was given the
men. Whatever else the outlaw might be, he was an experienced field
commander.

They had the peaks looming above them when Benito gave a gurgling gasp and
stiffened, tall in the saddle, before he looped into a limp, dangling
bundle of