And as her hand went fluttering to her heart she found small comfort in the paper lying next it that only a few hours before had brought her joy. For at any moment a messenger might come in to tell her that the writer of it had been captured and was to be dealt with summarily in frontier fashion. At best her lover and her friend were but fugitives from justice. Against them were arrayed not only the ruffian followers of their enemy, but also the lawfully constituted authorities of the county. Even if they should escape to-day the net would tighten on them, and they would eventually be captured. For the third time since coming to Wyoming Helen found refuge in tears. CHAPTER XVII. RUN TO EARTH When word came to Denver and the other punchers of the Lazy D that Reddy had been pressed into service as a guide for the posse that was pursuing the fugitives they gave vent to their feelings in choice profanity. “Now, ain’t that like him? Had to run around like a locoed calf telling all he knowed and more till Burns ropes him in,” commented the disgusted Missou. “Trouble with Reddy is he sets his mouth to working and then goes away and leaves it,” mourned Jim Henson. “I’d hate to feel as sore as Reddy will when the boys get through playing with him after he gets back to the ranch,” Denver contributed, when he had exhausted his vocabulary. Meanwhile Reddy, unaware of being a cause of offense, was cheerfully happy in the unexpected honor that had been thrust upon him. His will was of putty, molded into the opinion of whomever he happened at the moment to be with. Just now, with the ironic eye of Sheriff Burns upon him, he was strong for law enforcement. “A feller hadn’t ought to be so promiscuous with his hardware. This here thing of shooting up citizens don’t do Wyoming no good these days. Capital ain’t a-going to come in when such goings-on occur,” he sagely opined, unconsciously parroting the sentiment Burns had just been instilling into him. “That’s right, sir. If that ain’t horse sense I don’t know any. You got a head on you, all right,” answered the admiring sheriff. The flattered Reddy pleaded guilty to being wiser than most men. “Jest because I punch cows ain’t any reason why I’m anybody’s fool. I’ll show them smart boys at the Lazy D I don’t have to take the dust of any of the bunch when it comes to using my think tank.” “I would,” sympathized Burns. “You bet they’ll all be almighty jealous when they learn how you was chosen out of the whole outfit on this job.” All day they rode, and that night camped a few miles from the Lazy D. Early next morning they hailed a solitary rider as he passed. The man turned out to be a cowman, with a small ranch not far from the one owned by Miss Messiter. “Hello, Henderson! y’u seen anything of Jim McWilliams and another fellow riding acrost this way?” asked Reddy.