"Partner," said Bill to the last speaker, "ain't we makin' all the
speed we can? Ain't it what I want to come up to the fool kid and grab
him before he makes a hoss thief or somethin' out of himself? You gents
feed your hosses the spur and leave the thinkin' to me. I got a pile
of hunches."

There was no questioning of such a known man as Bill Dozier. The six
went rattling up the valley at a smart pace. Yet Andy's change of horses
at Sullivan's place changed the entire problem. He had ridden his first
mount to a stagger at full speed, and it was to be expected that, having
built up a comfortable lead, he would settle his second horse to a
steady pace and maintain it.

All night the six went on, with Bill Dozier's long-striding chestnut
setting the pace. He made no effort toward a spurt now. Andrew Lanning
led them by a full hour's riding on a comparatively fresh horse, and,
unless he were foolish enough to indulge in another wild spurt, they
could not wear him down in this first stage of the journey. There was
only the chance that he would build a fire recklessly near to the trail,
but still they came to no sign of light, and then the dawn broke and
Bill Dozier found unmistakable signs of a trotting horse which went
straight up the valley. There were no other fresh tracks pointing in the
same direction, and this must be Andy's horse. And the fact that he was
trotting told many things. He was certainly saving his mount for a long
grind. Bill Dozier looked about at his men in the gray morning. They
were a hard-faced lot; he had not picked them for tenderness. They were
weary now, but the fugitive must be still wearier, for he had fear to
keep him company and burden his shoulders.