ride. He made his demand once more, and the volunteers came out. There is always a fascination about a pursuit, and it acted now to make every one of the crowd come close about the deputy. He chose from them wisely, for he knew them all. He picked them for the sake of their steady hands, their cool heads, and also for their horses. A good many offered themselves out of mere shame, but Bill Dozier knew them, and not one was included. In five minutes he had selected five sturdy men, and every one of the five was a man whose name was known.
They went down the street of Martindale without shouting and at a steady lope which their horses could keep up indefinitely. Old Jasper followed them to the end of the village and kept on watching through the dusk until the six horsemen loomed on the hill beyond against the sky line. They were still cantering, and they rode close together like a tireless pack of wolves. After this old Jasper went back to his house, and when the door closed behind him a lonely echo went through the place.
"Bah!" said Jasper. "I'm getting soft!"
In the meantime the posse went on, regardless of direction. There were only two possible paths for a horseman out of Martindale; east and west the mountains blocked the way, and young Lanning had started north. Straight ahead of them the mountains shot up on either side of Grant's Pass, and toward this natural landmark Bill Dozier led the way. Not that he expected to have to travel as far as this. He felt fairly certain that the fugitive would ride out his horse at full speed, and then he would camp for the night and make a fire.
Andrew Lanning was town bred and soft of skin from the work at the forge. When the biting night air got through his clothes he would need warmth from a fire.
