trol the horses. The dangerous
curve was passed, but not the possibility of pursuit. The single leader
he was bestriding was panting--more than that, he was SWEATING, and from
the evidence of Jeff's hands, sweating BLOOD! Back of his shoulder was a
jagged hole, from which his life-blood was welling. The off-wheel horse
was limping too. That last volley was no foolish outburst of useless
rage, but was deliberate and premeditated skill. Jeff drew the reins,
and as the coach stopped, the horse he was riding fell dead. Into the
silence that followed broke the measured beat of horses' hoofs on the
road above. He was pursued!

To select the best horse of the remaining unscathed three, to break open
the boot and place the treasure on his back, and to abandon and leave
the senseless Bill lying there, was the unhesitating work of a moment.
Great heroes and great lovers are invariably one-ideaed men, and Jeff
was at that moment both.

Eighty thousand dollars in gold-dust and Jeff's weight was a handicap.
Nevertheless he flew forward like the wind. Presently he fell to
listening. A certain hoof-beat in the rear was growing more distinct. A
bitter thought flashed through his mind. He looked back. Over the hill
appeared the foremost of his pursuers. It was the blacksmith, mounted on
the fleetest horse in the county--Jeff's OWN horse--Rabbit!

But there are compensations in all new trials. As Jeff faced round
again, he saw he had reached the open table-land, and the bleak walls
and ghastly, untenanted windows of the "Half-way House" rose before him
in the distance. Jeff was master of the ground here! He was entering the
shadow of the woods--Miss Mayfield's woods! and there was a cut off from
the road, and a bridle-path, known only to himself, hard by. To find it,
leap the roadside ditch, dash through the thicket, and rein up by the
road again, was swiftly done.

Take a gentle woman, betray her trust, outrage her best feelings, drive
her into a corner, and you have a fury! Take a gentle, trustful man,
abuse him, show him the folly of this gentleness and kindness, prove to
him that it is weakness, drive him into a corner, and you have a savage!
And it was this savage, with an Indian's memory, and an Indian's eye and
ear, that suddenly confronted the blacksmith.

What more! A single shot from a trained hand and one-ideaed intellect
settled the blacksmith's business, and temporarily ended this Iliad! I
say temporarily, for Mr. Dodd,