ick for repointing--and laid it on the forge as next on the list.

What further outrage he meditated is not known, for he now heard a horse
coming up the trail. He was beating out a merry tattoo when a
white-hatted head rose through a trapdoor--rose above the level of the
dump, rather.

Hammer in hand, Long straightened up joyfully as best he could, but
could not straighten up the telltale droop of his shoulders. It was not
altogether assumed, either, this hump. Jeff--Mr. Long--had not done so
much work of this sort for years and there was a very real pain between
his shoulderblades. Still, but for the exigencies of art, he might have
borne his neck less turtlewise than he did.

"Hello! Get him? Where's your pardner?"

"Watching the gap." The young man, rather breathless from the climb,
answered the last question first as he led his horse on the dump. "No,
we didn't get him; but he can't get away. Hiding somewhere in the Basin
afoot. Found his horse. Pretty well done up." The insolence of the
outlaw's letter smote him afresh; he reddened. "No tracks going out of
the Basin. Two of our friends guarding the other end. They say he can't
get out over the cliffs anywhere. That so?" The speech came jerkily; he
was still short of breath from his scramble.

"Not without a flying machine," said Long. "No way out that I know of,
except where the wagonroad goes. What's he done?"

"Robbery! Murder! We'll see that he don't get out by the wagonroad,"
asserted the youth confidently. "Watch the gaps and starve him out!"

"Oh, speaking of starving," said Tobe, "go into the tent and I'll bring
you some supper while you tell me about it. Baked up another batch of
bread on the chance you'd come back."

"Why, thank you very much, Mr.----"

"Long--Tobe Long."

"Mr. Long. My name is Gurdon Steele. Glad to meet you. Why, if you will
be so kind--that is what I came up to see you about. If you can let us
have what we need; of course we will pay you for it."

"Of course you won't!" It had not needed the offer to place Mr. Gurdon
Steele quite accurately. He was a handsome lad, fresh-complexioned,
dressed in the Western manner as practised on the Boardwalk. "You're
welcome to what I got, sure; but I ain't got much variety. Gwin, the old
liar, said he was coming out the twentieth--and sure enough he didn't;
so the grub's running low. Table in the tent--come on!"

"Oh, no, I couldn't, you know! Rex--that's my partner--is quite as
hungry