they came out on the bank of a
millpond. Across that stretch of water there was safety, or at least the
illusion of safety.

"Drew!" For the second time he was hailed. It was Sam Croxton, holding
onto the saddle horn with both hands, a stream of red running from a
patch of blood-soaked hair over one ear. He swayed, his eyes wide open
as those of the frightened horses, but fastened now on Drew as if the
other were the one stable thing in a mad world.

"Can you stick on?" Drew leaned across to catch the reins the other had
dropped.

A small spark of understanding awoke in those wide eyes. "I'll stick,"
the words came thickly. "I ain't gonna rot in that damned prison
again--never!"

"Boyd ... on his other side! We'll try gettin' him across together."

"Yes, Drew." Boyd's voice sounded unsteady, but he did not hesitate to
bring his own mount in on Croxton's right.

"You'd best let me take that theah jump first, soldier." The stranger
sent his horse in ahead of Drew's. "It don't necessarily foller that
because that's water a man can jus' natcherly git hisself across in one
piece. I'll give it a try quicker'n you can spit and holler Howdy."

As if he were one with the raw-boned bay he bestrode, he jumped his
mount into the waiting pond. Still threshing about in the welter of
flying water, he glanced back and raised a hand in a come-ahead signal.

"Bottom's a mite missin', but the drop ain't so much. Better make it
'fore them fast-shootin' hombres back theah come a-takin' you."

Though they did not move in the same reckless fashion as their guide,
somehow they got across the pond and emerged dripping on the other side.
The determination which had made Croxton try the escape, seemed to fade
as they rode on. He continued to hold to the horn, but he slumped
further over in a bundle of misery. Their pond guide took Boyd's station
to the right, surveying the half-conscious man critically.

"This hoorawin' around ain't gonna do that scalpin' job no good," he
announced. "He can't ride far 'less he gits him a spell of rest an'
maybe has a medicine man look at that knock--"

Croxton roused. "I stick an' I ride!" He even got a measure of firmness
into his tone. "I don't go to no Yankee prison...." He tried to reach
for the reins, but Drew kept them firmly to hand.

There was a shot behind them, three or four more fugitives plunged down
to the millpond, and the last one in line fired back at some yet unseen
pursuer.

"Th