sfied himself in this
direction, he passed out of the corral and went over to the hut.

The screaming birds promptly protested, and flew once more from their
nesting quarters in panicky dudgeon. Fyles watched them go with
thoughtful eyes. Then he passed around to the door of the building and
thrust it open. Another rush of birds swept past him, and he passed
within. Again his searching eyes were brought into play. Not a detail
of that interior escaped him. But ten minutes later he left the
half-lit room for the broad light of day outside--disappointed.

For a long time he moved around the building, examining the walls,
their bases and foundations. His disappointment remained, however,
and, finally, with strong discontent in his expression, and an
unmistakable shrug of his shoulders, he moved away.

Finally, he paused and gave a long, low whistle. He repeated it at
intervals, three times, and, after awhile, for answer, the wise face
of Peter appeared from among the bushes. The creature solemnly
contemplated the scene. It was almost as if he were assuring himself
of the safety of revealing himself. Then, with measured gait, he made
his way slowly toward his master.

CHAPTER XXVIII

A WAGER

The wild outbreak of excitement in Rocky Springs died out swiftly.
After all, whisky-running was a mere traffic. It was a general traffic
throughout the country. The successful "running" of a cargo of alcohol
was by no means an epoch-making event. But just now, in Rocky Springs,
it was a matter of more than usual interest, in that the police had
expressed their intention of "cleaning" the little township up. So
the excitement at their outwitting. So, more than ever, the excited
rejoicing became a cordial expression of delight at the fooling of the
purpose of a generally hated act.

This sentiment was expressed by O'Brien before his bar full of men,
among whom were many of those responsible for the defeat of the
police. He addressed himself personally to Stormy Longton with the
certainty of absolute sympathy.

"Guess when the boys here have done with the p'lice they'll have the
prohibition law wiped out of the statute book, Stormy," he said, with
a knowing wink. "Ther's fellers o' grit around this valley, eh? Good
boys and gritty. Guess it ain't fer us to open our mouths wide, 'cep'
to swallow prohibition liquor, but there'll be some tales to tell of
these days later, eh, Stormy? An'," he added slyly, "guess you'll be