out of business. They're a hell-raisin' outfit, an' this country'll be
well rid of 'em. Only thing is I wanta play my cards above the table.
I couldn't spy on these men. Leastways, it didn't look quite square to
me. But this is a bronc of another color. Lead me to that trouble you
was promisin' a while ago."

Beresford led him to it, by way of a rain-washed gully, up which they
trod their devious path slowly and without noise. From the gully they
snaked through the dry grass to a small ditch that had been built to
drain the camping-ground during spring freshets. This wound into the
midst of the wagon train encampment.

The plainsmen crept along the dry ditch with laborious care. They
advanced no single inch without first taking care to move aside any
twig the snapping of which might betray them.

From the beginning of the adventure until its climax no word was
spoken. Beresford led, the trader followed at his heels.

The voices of men drifted to them from a camp-fire in the shelter of
the wagons. There were, Tom guessed, about four of them. Their words
came clear through the velvet night. They talked the casual elemental
topics common to their kind.

There was a moonlit open space to be crossed. The constable took it
swiftly with long strides, reached a wagon, and dodged under it. His
companion held to the cover of the ditch. He was not needed closer.

The officer lay flat on his back, set the point of the auger to the
woodwork of the bed, and began to turn. Circles and half-circles of