He surveyed the woman before him with a certain wonder. He would never have recognized her, she was so changed, so altered from the likeness he had carried in his heart; but now, knowing who she was, he could trace where she had fallen from that likeness. He was quite sure she could not recognize him, for he had changed, too, but in a different way. “If he'd drive slower, wouldn't it be easier for her?” The woman looked into his face in alarm. “We want to get there as quick as we can. Seems as though we'd never get there!” “You can't make it to-day.” “My husband says he'll drive till he gets there if it takes all night.” “There'll be a dead horse between the shafts if he tries it,” said the Bad Man in a tone of calm conviction. “The horse——” and the woman stopped. “I don't reckon he sets much value on the brute from the way he drives.” The woman gazed fixedly into his face. “Did he tell you?” she questioned in a frightened whisper. In a flash he realized what the trouble was. “He shouldn't have done it,” he said gravely. “I know that,” she answered breathlessly. “But what could he do? Our own horse had died. We had no money, and with the baby sick we just couldn't stop! If he is found out, what then?” The Bad Man shook his head dubiously. “I'd rather not say.” “Do they hang men for horse stealing?” “They have,” he answered shortly. Further conversation was interrupted by the sudden stopping of the wagon. “Darnation! Which trail do I take?” The Bad Man pointed to the right. “There's your road. You'll find it plain enough.” “Much obliged to you, stranger. I don't reckon you're going over to Sunken River Valley yourself?” “Hold on;” and a detaining hand was placed upon the lines the homesteader held. “That's a good horse you're driving, pardner, but if you keep this pace you'll take only his hide and bones into Sunken River Valley with you.” “I've got to get there, horse or no horse,” answered the man nervously. “How'd you like to trade? I've taken a fancy to that animal of yours, and if you're bent on killing a horse I don't, know but I'd rather have you kill the one I'm riding.” The homesteader leaped from his seat on the instant. “I'll do it!” Then he bethought him that perhaps some little display of reluctance might be seemly and natural. “Your horse is sound, of course?” “Sound as a dollar. Look it over if you don't think so.” The woman came to the front of the wagon, listening breathlessly. Now she put the flaps aside and looked out. Her husband turned to her. “We're going to swap horses—you don't care, do you?” She tried to meet the glance of the Bad Man, but could not. “It's all right, wife?” “Yes,” she answered in a low voice; “it's all right.” The animal was already free from the shafts, and at her word he led it out from between them. The Bad Man threw himself astride the stolen horse.