At the name of this grim officer of the law all felons trembled. Sube was no exception to the rule. He grew deathly pale. He had that empty feeling in his interior that Gizzard had complained of. He vaguely wondered what crime he had committed, but did not stop to inquire, as Gizzard dragged him feverishly towards the back door of the barn. Once outside he seemed to recover possession of his senses and assumed the lead. He conducted Gizzard to the midst of a clump of blackberry bushes in the rear of a deserted house not far away, and there Gizzard unburdened his soul. Sube was scared. He was petrified. But he was faithful to the last. He could not believe that Nancy had betrayed him. "It must of been that ol' M's Rude," he kept repeating. "It _must_ of been! It couldn't of been--anybody else! Now I wonder if that big cat with the long hair belonged to her." "Wonder? Ain't you _sure_?" "Why, it looked like hers, but--" "It wasn't M's Rude," declared Gizzard. "It was Nancy Guilford! Why, didn't she say she was goin' to have you--!" "Girls _say_ lots of things they don't mean." "Yes, but she said it, and then it happened!" "I don't care what she _said_! I tell you it was that ol' M's Rude!" Sube burst out angrily. Then modifying his tone he continued: "But that don't cut any ice anyway! What I want to know is, what we goin' to do?" Then followed a long discussion of the possibilities, and, as neither of the fugitives was willing to be taken alive, there seemed to be only one alternative: flight. Alaska was discarded as too cold, and South America as too hot. That portion of Texas nearest to the Mexican line seemed to offer the most tempting prospects for a "career," and Sube had begun to take a bit of grim comfort in the pangs that he felt sure Nancy Guilford must endure as she came to realize that she had made a desperado of him, when an idea flashed into his brain with the brilliancy of a searchlight. "Say!" he gasped. "Why couldn't we sneak back there and let the derned ol' cats out! Then we'd lay low till they had time to get back to their homes--!" "You're on!" cried Gizzard. They made their way out of their retreat, unmindful of the scratching thorns, and cautiously retraced their steps to the barn. "I never heard 'em so quiet before," whispered Sube. "S'pose they're all asleep?" "Prob'ly," replied Gizzard. "It must be awful late." They lighted a stump of a candle that had been hidden away for just such emergencies, and ascended the dusty stairs. Horror seized them as they found their place of business in wildest disorder, with the cages upset and broken open and every cat gone. Through the flickering gloom they stared at each other dumbfounded, bewildered; their last faint glimmer of hope gone. "Where do you s'pose--" faltered Gizzard, but he was unable to say more. "Dan must've got 'em for proof!" groaned Sube. "What'll we _ever_ do!" snivelled Gizzard.