s his horse ploughed through the low scrub his men followed hard upon
his heels. Farther on the country was open, and a wide stretch of
prairie grass spread out without cover of any sort. It was over this
the buckboard was racing.

He strove to estimate its distance away, the start it had of him,
by the sound. It could not be much over a mile. A light buckboard
and team could travel very fast under the hands of a skilful
teamster. It would take a distance of five miles to overhaul it. The
direction--yes, it was the direction of the village. The buckboard
might get there ahead of them.

Fyles rammed both spurs into the flanks of the faithful Peter, and, as
he did so, he saw a party of horsemen converging on him from the left.
They drew on, and, in a moment, he recognized McBain and his men.

He called out to the Scot as they came together.

"You get the boat?"

McBain shouted his reply.

"Sure, but--there was nothing doing. It was loaded down with rocks."

Just for one brief instant a bitter imprecation hovered on the
officer's lips. Then, in a wave of inspiration, he shouted his
conviction.

"By God, then we're on the right trail now. It's the buckboard ahead.
We must get it. That's the cargo, sure as fate. Come on!"

* * * * *

A light buckboard was moving leisurely over the open prairie. It was
just an ordinary, spidery buckboard drawn by an unusually fine team of
horses, and driven by a slightish man clad in a dark jacket and cord
riding-breeches, with a wide prairie hat drawn firmly down upon his
dark head, its brim deeply shading his boyish, good-looking face.
Running beside his team, tied to the neck yoke of the near-side
driver, was a saddle horse. It was a fine beast, with racehorse
quarters, and a shoulder laid back for speed.

The buckboard was well loaded. Nor was its load disguised. It
consisted of a number of the small wooden kegs adopted for the purpose
of transporting contraband liquor.

But though the vehicle moved over the rough grass in such a leisurely
fashion, the man's eyes were alert and watchful. His ears, too, were
sharply set, and lost no sound, as his eyes lost no sight, in the
distant prospect of the country through which he was traveling.

His gait was by no means the result of any reposeful sense. It was the
well-calculated result of caution. There was caution in his whole
poise. In the quick turn of the head at any predominating sound. In
the