then, shading his eyes, he looked steadily ahead. The sod barn stood in
its usual place; the corral, with its posts set close together,
stretched by its side; but where the house had stood there could not be
distinguished even a mound. The hand on the reins tightened meaningly,
and in sympathy the mustangs moved ahead at a swifter pace, leaving
behind a trail of tobacco-smoke denser than before.

* * * * *

When the little Benjamin Blair, fugitive, had literally taken to the
earth, it was with definite knowledge of the territory he was entering.
He had often explored its depths with childish curiosity, to the
distress of his mother and the disgust of the rightful owner, the
mongrel dog. Retreating to the farther end of the cave, the instinct of
self-preservation set hands and feet to work like the claws of a gopher,
filling with loose dirt the narrow passage through which he had entered.
Panting and perspiring with the effort, choked with the dust he raised,
all but suffocated, he dug until his strength gave out; then, curling up
in his narrow quarters, he lay listening. At first he heard nothing, not
even a sound from the dog; and he wondered at the fact. He could not
believe that Tom Blair would leave him in peace, and he breathlessly
awaited the first tap of an instrument against his retreat. A minute
passed, lengthened to five--to ten--and with the quick impatience of
childhood he started to learn the reason of the delay. His active little
body revolved in its nest. In the darkness a wiry arm scratched at the
recently erected barricade. A head with a tousled mass of hair poked its
way into the opening, crowded forward a foot--two feet, then stopped,
the whole body quivering. He had passed the curve, and of a sudden it
was as though he had opened the door of a furnace and gazed inside.
Instead of the familiar room, a great sheet of flame walled him in.