Side by side, two dim figures in the murk, we loped away. Barreau kept a steady unhurried gait. We passed a building or two, dipped into a hollow, splashed through what may have been a river or a pond, for all I could tell, and presently came out upon level plain. Behind us MacLeod’s few lights twinkled like the scattered embers of a campfire. Soon these also dwindled to nothing, and the shadowless gloom of the prairies surrounded us. Keenly as I listened, I caught no sound of following hoofs. And Barreau seemed to think himself tolerably safe, for he began to talk in his natural tone as we galloped into the night. “If the Police overhaul us now,” he asserted confidently, “it will be only because of a lucky guess at the direction we have taken. They are more than likely to think we have gone south. And if they don’t beat us to the Red Flats we can snap our fingers at them for many a moon. Are you itching with curiosity, Bob?” “Not altogether itching,” I replied truthfully enough. “I’m too glad to be out of that iron-barred box, to be worrying much over the why of things. Just so the program doesn’t call for another spell in some guardhouse, I’ll be satisfied. I’m putting a good deal of faith in what you said about eventually getting to St. Louis.” “Cultivating the philosophical attitude already, eh?” he returned. “You’re progressing. To be perfectly frank, there is little chance of our seeing either the inside or outside of a guardhouse again. The redcoats fight shy of the country we are bound for.” “Where is that?” I asked quickly. “I knew you were wondering,” he laughed. “Unconsciously you are bristling with question marks. Natural enough, too. But all in good time, Bob. To-night we have food and clothing, another horse or two and arms to get. If previous calculations haven’t been upset, these things will be forthcoming and we shall go on our way—if not rejoicing, at least well-provided against the wilderness. And then if you still choose to paddle in my canoe, I’ll go into details.” “That’s fair enough,” I answered. “There’s just one thing—that _Moon_ robbery business. How came you to know a deputy sheriff was after me?” “Simply enough,” he returned. “When I got out I had to sneak around and find a man from whom I could get a horse—I have a friend or two there, luckily. And he told me. The Circle men gave you away when they were told you had stolen money from the boat. The deputy had just ridden in. He was a mouthy brute, and noised his business about.” “It beats the devil,” I declared. “Ever since those two thugs tackled me on the St. Louis water front I seem to have been going from bad to worse; stepping from one hot stone to another still hotter.” “I’ve done it myself,” he said laconically. “But they will have to catch their hare before they can cook it; and it takes more than accusation to make a man a thief.”