the best, but his unscrupulous character and well-known skill with the
Winchester caused him to be feared, and an officer of the law would
think twice before making any attempts to disturb him. It was at this
place that the three fugitives were seeking refuge.

The sun had risen, and it was broad day when Cummings, who naturally
took the lead, commanded a halt.

A clump of cotton-wood trees on the verge of a small, shallow creek
offered a good camping ground.

Hobbling their horses, after taking the saddles from them, they allowed
them to graze at will, and the party busied themselves in collecting
wood for a fire.

A few sheep which had escaped from some ranch were grazing near the
spot, and Moriarity, who had his Winchester, dropped one by a well-
directed ball back of the shoulder.

The warm fleece was taken from the still quivering body, and the
appetizing smell of mutton steaks reminded the hungry men that the
breakfast hour had long since passed. The meal over, nature asserted her
claims, and the thoroughly tired-out travelers wrapped themselves in
their blankets and fell asleep.

They were not disturbed, for the trail which they had taken was seldom
traveled over, and it was late in the afternoon when they were once more
on their way.

The trail led over the beds of dried-up streams, and skirted the