"We'll go for him. We'll send for him." The Superintendent turned and
glanced at his companion.

"Not me, sir, I hope. You can quite see, sir, I'd be a mighty poor
advocate. Couldn't face those blue eyes, sir. They make me grow quite
weak. Chills and fever--in short, temporary delirium."

"Oh, well, Sergeant," replied the Superintendent, "if it's as bad as
that--"

"You don't know her, sir. Those eyes! They can burn in blue flame or
melt in--"

"Oh, yes, yes, I've no doubt." The Superintendent's voice had a touch of
pity, if not contempt. "We won't expose you, Sergeant. But all the same
we'll make a try for Cameron." His voice grew stern. His lips drew to a
line. "And we'll get him."

The Sergeant's horse took a sudden plunge forward.

"Here, you beast!" he cried, with a fierce oath. "Come back here! What's
the matter with you?" He threw the animal back on his haunches with a
savage jerk, a most unaccustomed thing with the Sergeant.

"Yes," pursued the Superintendent, "the situation demands it. Cameron's
the man. It's his old stamping-ground. He knows every twist of its
trails. And he's a wonder, a genius for handling just such a business as
this."

The Sergeant made no reply. He was apparently having some trouble with