Surely she was not thinking of the
police? They always carried their lives in their hands. It was part
of their profession. She denied Charlie Bryant's leadership, so----But
in her own secret mind did she deny it? He wondered.

So he rode on probing the problem. Later he smiled again. She was
thinking of himself. The vanity of the thought amused him, and he
found himself shaking his head. Not likely. It was not her regard for
him. He was certain in his mind that her wager was made in the full
conviction that he would not win, and, consequently, she would not
have to marry him. She certainly was a strange creature,
and--charming.

However, she was concerned that somebody was to meet death, and she
dreaded it. Furthermore, now he came to think of it, a similar belief,
without the accompanying dread, was growing in him. He pulled himself
together. The old superstition must not get hold of him. That would
indeed be the height of folly.

But once the seed had been sown in his imagination the roots quickly
strove to possess themselves of all the fertility such a rich soil
afforded. He could not shake clear of their tendrils. Maybe it was
the effect of his sympathy and regard for the woman. Maybe he was
discovering that he, too, deep down beneath the veneer in which his
work armored him, was possessed of that strange superstition which
seems to possess all human life. He hated the thought, and still more
hated the feeling the thought inspired.

He touched Peter's flank with his heels, and the unaccustomed spur
sent the highly strung beast plunging into a headlong gallop.

He was far beyond the village now, and more than half way to the camp,
and presently he slowed down to that steady canter which eats up
distance so rapidly without undue exertion for either man or beast.
He strove to turn the course of his thoughts. He pondered upon the
ungracious official letter of his superior, begrudging, but yielding
to his persuasions. Things certainly were "coming his way." At last he
was to be given his final chance, and it was something to obtain such
clemency in a force which existed simply by reason of its unfailing
success. He had much to be thankful for. McBain would have fresh heart
put into him. It would be something like a taste of hell for McBain to
find himself reduced to the rank of trooper again, after all his
years of successful service. Yes, he was glad for McBain's----

Suddenly he checked the willing Peter, and d