and each time, as it came again more closely in view, the eye of Riley
Sinclair brightened with certainty. At length, nodding slightly to
express his conviction, he sent the pony into the shelter of a little
grove overlooking the house. From this shelter, still giving half his
attention to his objective, he ran swiftly over his weapons. The pair
of long pistols came smoothly into his hands, to be weighed nicely, and
have their cylinders spun. Then the rifle came out of its case, and its
magazine was looked to thoroughly before it was returned.

This done, the rider seemed in no peculiar haste to go on. He merely
pushed the horse into a position from which he commanded all the
environs of the house; then he sat still as a hawk hovering in a
windless sky.

Presently the door of the little shack opened, and two men came out and
walked down the path toward the road, talking earnestly. One was as
tall as Riley Sinclair, but heavier; the other was a little, slight
man. He went to a sleepy pony at the end of the path and slowly
gathered the reins. Plainly he was troubled, and apparently it was the
big man who had troubled him. For now he turned and cast out his hand
toward the other, speaking rapidly, in the manner of one making a last
appeal. Only the murmur of that voice drifted up to Riley Sinclair, but
the loud laughter of the big man drove clearly to him. The smaller of
the two mounted and rode away with dejected head, while the other
remained with arms folded, looking after him.

He seemed to be chuckling at the little man, and indeed there was
cause, for Riley had never seen a rider so completely out of place in a
saddle. When the pony presently broke into a soft lope it caused the
elbows of the little man to flop like wings. Like a great clumsy bird