The shack where he had left the horse swam before his eyes. He heard the breath making sounds in his throat as he crawled on toward it, counting each hand-breadth traveled an achievement. He tried to call out to the horse, but the words clogged and he could not make his voice carry. "Just a moment, boy!" he whispered. "Only--a moment longer--then you won't have--to wait!" He was conscious again that his pursuers fired from behind. It was moonlight once more, and they could see him as he reeled on toward the shack. He sprawled again as his foot met a stone, and the guns ceased to crash. But VB did not think on this more than that instant. He found no comfort in the cessation of firing. For him, only one attainable object remained in life. He wanted to be with the thing of which he was certain, away from all else--to know a faith was justified; to sense once again stability! His hand struck rough wood. He strained his eyes to make out the tumble-down structure rising above him. "Captain!" he called, forcing his voice up from a whisper. "Come--boy, I'm--ready--to go--home!" Clinging to the logs, he raised himself to his feet and swayed in through the door. "Captain," he muttered, closing his eyes almost contentedly and waiting. "Captain?" He started forward in alarm, a concern mounting through his torture and dimming his sensibilities. "Captain--are you--here?" He stumbled forward, arms outstretched in the darkness, feeling about the space. He ran into a wall; turned, met another. "Captain!" he cried, his voice mounting to a ranting cry. The Captain was gone! Reason for keeping on slipped from VB's mind. He needed air, so his reflexes carried him through the doorway again, out of the place where he had left the stallion, out of the place where his trust had been betrayed. He stumbled, recovered his balance, plunged on out into the moonlight, into the brush, sobbing heavily. His knees failed. He crashed down, face plowing into cool soil. "Captain"! he moaned. "Oh, boy--I didn't think--_you_ would--fail-- No wonder--I couldn't keep--going--" He did not hear the running feet, did not know they rolled him over, Rhues with his gun upraised. "I got him, th' ----" he muttered. "Then let's get out--_pronto_!" Twenty minutes later a man with a lantern stepped out of the shack in which the Captain had stood. Two others were with him. "Yes, he left his horse there, all right," the man with the light muttered. "He got to him an' got away. Nobody else could lead that horse off. He couldn't 'a' been hard hit or he couldn't 'a' got up." CHAPTER XXII Tables Turn; and Turn Again