me," the outlaw said simply, and again silence fell between them.
They were at the fork of the trail where one narrow horse path turns south to climb the heights into the Spout and the other carries on to the westward and Sioux Pass. Hardly had Zang's horse chosen the homeward path than a shrill whinny came out of the dark. This Zang's pony answered before the rider's quick hand could slip down and shut off the equine hailing sign,—a precaution that was automatic with the Spout outlaw. A clatter of hoofs out there in the dark, and a riderless horse came cantering up to within a few feet of the beasts the man and woman rode, circled warily, then cavorted off a short distance. The cayuse was followed by a second, more cautious, who remained out of sight but betrayed his presence by loud snortings. The horse they could see was saddled and bridled; faintly they could distinguish the stock of a rifle protruding above the saddle scabbard.
"Somebody 's afoot," Zang commented aloud. "Wonder who?" He dismounted, uncoiled his reata from the saddle horn and strode off into the darkness. Hilma heard him coaxing the runaway to come into swinging dis-
