gering halt a hundred yards away. Clair was afoot with the quickness of a cat and running toward the curious group.
"My friend," he called out on beholding Lander. "Holy blue! What has happened to you? You have the bruise, the scratch! Your raiment is torn."
"Nothing, nothing, Papa Clair. What brings you here?" replied Lander.
"Imbecile that I am! Armed men are on the boat to get you. We must ride at once."
"How many? I reckon we can stand them off," spoke up Prevost.
"No, no. There must be no trouble between the A. F. C. and the Rocky Mountain Fur Company—at least, not in Missouri. We must go. You must know nothing about us. And we must ride quick!"
"Then you must have a fresh mule, Etienne Clair," said Prevost.
"A thousand thanks for the same, M'sieu Prevost."
"Simons, rush up two mules," was the sharp order.
The champion did as bid but remonstrated:
"No need o' runnin'. If thar's any trouble
