I saw him lean forward, shading his face with one hand, as he stared toward me through the darkness. I thought he drew a quick breath as from surprise, and there was a moment's hesitancy. "Let out the ropes a trifle, Peter," came the final order. The little bald-headed man went at it without a word, the lieutenant reining back his horse slightly, and drawing his hat lower over his eyes. In the silence one of the horses neighed, and the boy seemed to straighten in his saddle, glancing suspiciously about. "Ride ahead slowly, Tonepah," he ordered. "I'll catch up with you." He turned back toward me. "Who are you, anyway?" Surprised at the unexpected question, my first thought was to conceal my identity. These were King's men, and I was in ordinary clothes--the rough homespun furnished by Farrell. If, by any chance, I was not the party they had expected to waylay, I might be released without search. "Who am I?" I echoed. "Do you mean you have gone to all this trouble without knowing whom you hold prisoner?" "It seems so," coolly. "We know who we thought you were, but I am beginning to doubt your being the right man. Peter, take his hat off." I straightened up bareheaded, the faint star-gleam on my face. The lieutenant remained quiet, but Peter broke his sphinx-like silence. "Tain't him, is it?" "No; he must have taken the other road after all," with a slight laugh. "We've been on a wild-goose chase. However, it's too late now to catch the fellow on this trip." Peter rubbed his bald pate, his eyes on me. "An' what'll we do with this lad?" he answered drawlingly. "Turn him loose?" "Bring him along. We'll find out to-morrow who he is, and what his business may be. Men are not riding these roads at midnight without some purpose." He wheeled his horse, and, with a touch of the spur, disappeared in the darkness ahead. Peter clambered back into the saddle, and gripped my rein. "Come on," he said disgustedly, kicking the black in the side. "It's a ways yet afore yer lie down."