"Play the game, eh?" he repeated. "So there's a game being played. I didn't just know. Thought all that's afoot was the big idea of chasing me over the hills and far away. And from Selden's latest attitude, it looks as if that had been abandoned. Game, eh?" "That's what I'd call it. Quite evidently the man was spying on us." "Did you recognize him?" "I can't make sure." "But you think you know him," he said with conviction. "Yes. I imagined it was Digger Foss. But he got to cover pretty quickly." "His horse can't be far away. Maybe we can locate him somewhere along the back trail. I'd know that rawboned roan." "So should I. Let's send 'em along a little faster." They had by this time reached the opening in the chaparral into which their shadow had dodged. By common consent they passed it without looking to right or left. "He may imagine we didn't see him," whispered Jessamy. "I hope he does." There was an open stretch ahead of them, and across it they galloped, the girl piercing the thickets on the right in search of a saddle horse, Oliver sweeping the slopes that descended to the river. But neither saw a horse, and in the trail were no hoofprints not made by their own mounts. "He has been afoot from the start," decided Jessamy. "I wish I knew whether or not it was Digger Foss." They wound their way down to Sulphur Spring presently, and came to a halt in the ravine below it. "Now," said Oliver, "who knows but that my sniper is not hidden up there in the hills?" "I'll look for that bullet," she purposed, and swung out of her saddle. "Oh, no you won't!" His foot touched the ground with hers. "Yes--listen! No one would shoot at me. But they might take another crack at you, even with me along to witness it. If they were hidden and could get away unseen, you know. But they'd not shoot at me." "How do you know?" "Well, I'm one of them--after a fashion. They all like me--and at least one of them wants to gather me to his manly breast and fly with me." "But things are different since I came. You've taken sides with me. If any one looks for that slug, I'm the one that'll do it." He started toward the spring. "Stop!" she ordered, and grasped his shirt-sleeves. "Listen here: I'd bet a dollar against a saddle string that that was Digger Foss we saw up on the ridge." "Well?" "He's afoot. He can't have had time to get down here and guard Sulphur Spring." "All right. Well?" "And I know positively that Adam Selden and the boys are up north today after a bunch of drifters. So none of them can be here. That eliminates six of the Poison Oakers. There would be left only Obed Pence, Ed Buchanan, Chuck Allegan, and Jay Muenster--all privates, next to outsiders. None of them would shoot at me, and--" She came to a full stop and eyed him speculatively. "And I'm going to look for that bullet," she finished limpingly.