"No bad plan," said the sheriff, with a nod of his head; "but, will you have force enough?" "I understand they have got several fellows with them--three Irishmen and a Dutchman, besides others." "Give me two other stout men besides Mr. Byles," said I, "and I will undertake to keep them at a stand till you come up." "A soldier?" asked the sheriff, laconically. I nodded my head. "Well, go along then," he said; "there's your way up there; then the first to the right; but then mind the jog of the road to the left, about seven miles on. But Byles knows all about it; he knows the country right well. Here's their trail--these waggon ruts, freshly made and sharp at the edges. You can easily judge by these whether they have gone on; and if they have got beyond the camp, you had better stay there till we come. There will be nothing for it then but to ride them straight down as hard as we can go." The matter was soon explained to Mr. Byles, who was ready for anything; and after he, on his best judgment, had selected two stout fellows to accompany us, we set off at as fast a pace as we could well go, till we reached the month of the very narrow path which we had to pursue. Nor did we much slacken our speed there; although, to say the truth, it was rather a perilous undertaking to ride along it with such velocity; for the boughs swung across in many directions, whisking one's eyes, or one's knees, or one's head, every two or three hundred yards. "Now we are coming near the bad place by the bar," said Billy Byles. "Keep a short rein and ease them up as you go through." And on he went, into what seemed to me neither more nor less than a morass. His horse made a terrible flounder at the first plunge, but was up again in a moment; and on we all went, stumbling, and sinking, and rolling, but scrambling on still, till we reached the other side of the _bad place_, and were once more upon firm ground. The next three or four miles were much more open, the road passing through a low sort of brushwood, with scattered scrubby trees, and a good deal of short grass between. We took advantage of it to the uttermost, and entered the thicker wood again after a gallop of some twenty minutes. "I think we must have distanced them," said Billy Byles, slackening his speed a little; "the waggons cannot go more than three miles an hour at their very best, and we have not let the grass grow under us." On we went, however, at a very quick trot; and, at the end of three miles further, Mr. Byles said in a low tone,-- "We are coming near now. We shall soon know what we are about." At the same moment, I heard a sound, proceeding, apparently, from some spot not more than a couple of hundred yards on our left. It was a low sort of whining, complaining noise, something like a door turning on rusty hinges; and I said,-- "Hark! what is that?" "An ungreased waggon wheel," replied Billy Byles. "We have caught them, for a hundred dollars."