CHAPTER VI


A frosty mist dulled the light of the stars, but this cleared away
as Jolly Roger and Peter crossed the plain between the creek and
Cragg's Ridge.

They did not hurry, for McKay had faith in Cassidy's word. He knew
the red-headed man-hunter would not break his promise--he would
wait the full two hours in Indian Tom's cabin, and another five
minutes after that. In Jolly Roger, as the minutes passed,
exultation at his achievement died away, and there filled him
again the old loneliness--the loneliness which called out against
the fate which had made of Cassidy an enemy instead of a friend.
And yet--what an enemy!

He reached down, and touched Peter's bushy head with his hand.

"Why didn't the Law give another man the assignment to run us
down," he protested. "Someone we could have hated, and who would
have hated us! Why did they send Cassidy--the fairest and squarest
man that ever wore red? We can't do him a dirty turn--we can't
hurt him, Pied-Bot, even at the worst. And if ever he takes us in
to Headquarters, and looks at us through the bars, I feel it's
going to be like a knife in his heart. But he'll do it, Peter, if