sharp glance of his dark eyes at any of the more fantastic shadows
cast by the searching moonlight. Then, too, a tight hand was upon the
reins, and there was an alert searching for those badger and gopher
holes so perilous for horses in the uncertain light of the moon.

He was traveling in a parallel, a mile to the south of the river
trail, and, far ahead, to the right, he could see the bush which
marked the winding course of the river.

Now he was listening to the faint rumble of a wagon moving along the
trail, and, with which, though so far away, he was carefully keeping
pace. This was his whole object--to keep pace, almost step for step,
with the rumbling movement of the distant wagon.

At his present gait his wheels gave out practically no sound. They
gently, almost silently, crushed their way over the tufted grass, and
the sound of his horses' hoofs suggested a muffling.

So he made his way, stealthily, secretly. His was the brain which had
planned, and this vital work of convoying his smuggled liquor could be
entrusted to no other hand. The work he demanded of others was simple;
it was the background to his central purpose. He had no desire to risk
his helpers. His must be the risk, as, too, his must be the chief
profit.

With all his caution he yet had time to think of those other things
which frequently brought a smile to his dark eyes. Why not? There was
a wild exhilaration in this work. He reveled in the thought of his
risk. He reveled in laying plans which could beat all the best brains
among the law officers. The excitement of the chances was as the
breath of life to him, and the cargo once safely secreted he could
feel that he had not lived in vain.

He knew full well that the penitentiary doors were wide open waiting
to greet him, but he meant them to remain open, and spend their whole
time in a yearning which he vowed should never be fulfilled. Five
years. He smiled. Five years--wearing a striped----

What was that?

A shot! One single shot! Far away, there, by the river. Ah, yes. That
big bluff. Holy Dick was probably busy. Holy Dick in his boat. He
smiled. But all unconsciously he eased his hand upon the lines, and
his horses quickened their gait. It was just the slight, nervous
quickening as the critical moment of his effort drew near.

The buckboard was less silent. The wheels began to rattle over the
hummocky surface of the prairie grass. He listened even more acutely
for the rumble of the