got into a swift stride, so Stevens would not pass him.
Presently the outlaw caught up with him. Stevens was grinning,
but there was now no fun in the dancing eyes. It was a devil
that danced n them. His face seemed a shade paler.

"Was jest comin' out of the store," yelled Stevens. "Run plumb
into a rancher--who knowed me. He opened up with a rifle. Think
they'll chase us."

They covered several miles before there were any signs of
pursuit, and when horsemen did move into sight out of the
cottonwoods Duane and his companion steadily drew farther away.

"No hosses in thet bunch to worry us," called out Stevens.

Duane had the same conviction, and he did not look back again.
He rode somewhat to the fore, and was constantly aware of the
rapid thudding of hoofs behind, as Stevens kept close to him.
At sunset they reached the willow brakes and the river. Duane's
horse was winded and lashed with sweat and lather. It was not
until the crossing had been accomplished that Duane halted to
rest his animal. Stevens was riding up the low, sandy bank. He
reeled in the saddle. With an exclamation of surprise Duane
leaped off and ran to the outlaw's side.

Stevens was pale, and his face bore beads of sweat. The whole
front of his shirt was soaked with blood.

"You're shot!" cried Duane.