“Give ’em time to get clear.  We don’t want to come up until there’s light enough to swear to them or they make the reservation.”

They waited several minutes, and then, traversing the wood, found their horses and mounted.  The grass stretched away, blurred and shadowy, and though they could see nothing that moved upon it, a beat of hoofs came softly back to them.

“Wind’s bringing the sound,” said the teamster.  “Guess they won’t hear us.”

They rode out into the gray obscurity, losing the sound now and then.  They had gone several leagues when they came to the edge of a dark bluff.  Drawing bridle, they sat and listened, until the teamster broke the silence.

“There’s a trail runs through; we’ll try it.”

The trail was difficult to find and bad to follow, for long grass and willow-scrub partly covered it, and in spite of their caution the men made a good deal of noise.  That, however, seemed of less importance, for they could hear nothing ahead, and George looked about carefully as they crossed a more open space.  The trees were getting blacker and more distinct; he could see their tops clearly against the sky, and guessed that dawn was near.  How far it was to the reservation he did not know, but there would be light enough in another hour to see the men who had carried off the liquor.  Then he began to wonder where the latter were, for there was now no sign of them.

Suddenly, when the wind dropped for a moment, a faint rattle of wheels reached them from the depths of the wood, and the teamster raised his hand.

“Pretty close,” he said.  “Come on as cautious as you can.  The reservation’s not far away, and we don’t want them to get there much before us.”

They rode a little more slowly; but when the rattle of wheels and thud of hoofs grew sharply distinct in another lull, the man struck his horse.

“They’ve heard us!” he cried.  “We’ve got to run them down!”

George urged his beast, and there was a crackle of brush about him as the black trees streamed past.  The thrill of the pursuit possessed him; after weeks of patient labor, he felt the exhilaration of the wild night ride.  The trail, he knew, was riddled here and there with gopher holes and partly grown with brush that might bring his horse down, but this did not count.  He was glad, however, that the teamster was behind him, because he could see the dim gap ahead between the mass of trees, and he thought that it was rapidly becoming less shadowy.  The sound of hoofs and wheels was growing louder; they were coming up with the fugitives.

“Keep them on the run!” gasped the man behind.  “If one of us gets thrown, the other fellow will hold right on!”

A few minutes later George’s horse plunged with a crash through a break.

“We’re off the trail!” his companion cried.  “Guess it switches round a sloo!”

They floundered through crackling brushwood until they struck the track, and afterward rode furiously to make up the lost time, with the sound of wheels leading them on.  Then in the gap before them they saw what seemed to be the back of a wagon which, to George’s surprise, suddenly disappeared.  The next moment a figure carrying something crossed the trail.