He could see the riders, dim-flitting as they passed between him and
the flames. Once he stopped to listen; he heard the remaining half
of the man-hunt leaving the ranch. They were riding hard. Thereafter
Pringle had no mercy on his horse. Ride as he might, those who
followed had the inner circle; when he rounded the fires and struck
the hill his start was perilously slight. While the footing was soft
he urged the wearied horse up the slope; at the first rocky space he
abandoned the poor beast lest the floundering of shod hoofs should
betray him. He took off saddle and bridle; he hung the canteen over
his shoulder and pressed on afoot.

A light breeze had overcast the stars with thin and fleecy clouds.
This made for Pringle's safety; it also made the going harder--and it
would have been hard going by daylight.

The slope became steeper; ledges of rock, little at first, became
larger and more frequent; he came to bluffs that barred his progress,
slow and painful at best; he was forced to search to left or right
for broken places where he could climb. Bits of rock, dislodged by his
feet, fell clattering despite his utmost care; he heard the like from
below, to the left, to the right. The short night wore swiftly on.

With equal fortune John Wesley should have maintained his lead. But
he found more than his share of no-thoroughfares. Before long his
ears told him that men were almost abreast of him on each side. He
was handicapped now, because he must shun any chance meeting. His
immediate neighbors, however, had no such fear; they edged closer
and closer together as they climbed. At last, stopped against a
perpendicular wall ten feet high, he heard them creeping toward him
from both sides, with a guarded "Coo-ee!" each to the other; John