But he did not worry. Right ahead was a stone marker which he knew marked the boundary of Nevada. Long before the car could reach him he had passed it. He kept on for two or three hundred yards at the same pace while the car, forging up on him, was noisy with shouts and commands to stop. He slowed down to a trot and grinned at the men who stood in the car and pointed their revolvers at him. His pistol was dangling in his hand. "You gents want me?" he asked, pleasantly. His former captor sputtered an oath. "You're shoutin' we want you," he cried. "Get off that horse and climb in here, you----" De Launay's voice grew hard and incisive. "You got a warrant for my arrest?" "Warrant be hanged! You're an escaped prisoner! Climb down before we let you have it!" "That's interesting. Where's your extradition papers?" The officer shrieked his commands and imprecations, waving his pistol. De Launay grinned. "If you want to test the law, go ahead," he said. "I'm in Nevada as you know very well. If you want to shoot, you may get me--but I can promise that _I'll_ get you, too. The first man of you that tightens a trigger will get his. Go to it!" An officer who is on the right side of the law is thereby fortified and may proceed with confidence. If he is killed, his killer commits murder. But an officer who is on the wrong side of the law has no such psychological reënforcement. He is decidedly at a disadvantage. The policemen were courageous--but they faced a dilemma. If they shot De Launay, they would have to explain. If he shot them, it would be in self-defense and lawful resistance to an illegal arrest. Furthermore, there was something about the way he acted that convinced them of his intention and ability. There were only three of them, and he seemed quite confident that he could get them all before they could kill him. The officer who had been his guardian thought of a way out. "There's a justice of the peace a mile ahead," he said. "We'll just linger with you until we reach him and get a warrant." "Suit yourselves," said De Launay, indifferently. "But don't crowd me too closely. Those things make my horse nervous." They started the car, but he galloped easily on ahead, turning in his saddle to watch them. They proceeded slowly, allowing him to gain about forty yards. The officer thought of shooting at him when he was not looking, but desisted when he discovered that De Launay seemed to be always looking. They had proceeded only a short distance when De Launay, without warning, spurred his horse into a run, swinging him at the same time from side to side of the road. Turned in his saddle, he raised his hand and the staccato rattle of his automatic sounded like the roll of a drum. The startled officers fired and missed his elusive form. They had their aim disarranged by the sudden jolt and stoppage of the car. De Launay had shot the two front tires and a rear one to pieces.