e, parallel with the railway, while such sleighs
as tried the journey had evidently been making many a detour. Snow there
was in abundance in the coulees and ravines, snow in sheets in the lee
of every little ridge or hummock, but elsewhere the icy sod was swept
hard and clean, and the sharp hoofs rang as though they struck macadam.
Three miles out two "rigs" were passed, westward bound, filled with town
folk who had been to Arena for the dance. Had they seen or heard aught
of Mr. and Mrs. Osborn? he asked. No, they knew them well by sight, and
would be sure to note them had they come to the dance. Five miles out a
stage was encountered, loaded with exuberant revellers who had remained
after the dance for a spree, and were now consumed with wrath because
certain officers of the law from their own town, too, had hustled them
out.

"A hull sleighful of 'em--three or four anyhow--came over there with
that cockney sergeant you fellers keep at the fort, lookin' for
deserters. You after deserters? Well, here's--hic--hopin' you don't get
'em."

It was all Jim Ennis wanted to know. "Come on, men," he cried, and
spurred ahead, his wondering troopers following.

"Now, what the mischief is that man Fitzroy's game?" thought Ennis, as
he pushed on through the bitter cold of the December morning. It had not
been difficult to learn that the sergeant, after much search and inquiry
in town, had started for Arena, taking with him, as it happened, two of
the Rocky Mountain police, who had business there and were tired of
waiting for the train. Ennis reasoned it was after Dora that Fitzroy had
gone; that in his jealous misery he had kept watch upon her, had
followed to town on hearing of her flight, had followed further, and
this it was that gave Ennis the hope that she was accompanied by such
worthy people as the Osborns. If that were so, it could mean but one
thing. It was to join Rawdon, perhaps to be joined to Rawdon. Osborn had
sent two messages by wire and received two early in the evening; Ennis
had learned this through the operator, though the contents were
withheld. Rawdon, probably, dared not come to Cushing City. There he
might still be arrested on sight. Yes. Ennis had it now. Dora Mayhew had
fled to Arena to meet and marry George Rawdon; Fitzroy had followed fast
in hopes of blocking it.

And just as the twinkling switch-lights of the little prairie station
hove in sight ahead, there came a sound that startled him--the whi