travelers did not get to the scene before Jack Lamont lay prone on the
ground from Dorian's finishing knockout blow.

"Damn him!" said Dorian, as he shook himself back into a somewhat normal
condition and spat red on the ground. "He's got just a little of what's
been coming to him for a long time. Let him alone. He's not seriously
hurt. Let's go."




CHAPTER TWENTY.


On a Saturday afternoon in early July Dorian and a neighbor were coming
home from a week's absence up in the hills. They were on horseback,
and therefore they cut across by way of the new road in course of
construction between Greenstreet and the city.

The river was high. The new bridge was not yet open for traffic, but
horses could safely cross. As the two riders passed to the Greenstreet
side, they saw near the bridge down on the rocks by the rushing river,
an automobile, overturned and pretty well demolished. Evidently, someone
had been trying to reach the bridge, had missed the road, and had gone
over the bank, which at this point was quite steep.

The two men stopped, dismounted, and surveyed the wreck. Someone was
under the car, dead or alive, they could not tell. Dorian unslung his
rope from his saddle, and took off his coat. "I'll go down and see," he
said.