The man stood not upon the order of his going, and, to speed him up, Lieutenant Wingate sent two shots over his head, following these up by chasing the fellow clear out into the open field where the Thompson cabin stood. The mountaineer made a quick run across the field, zigzagging, expecting, undoubtedly, to hear a bullet whistle past his head.

"Whew!" exclaimed the lieutenant, brushing the perspiration from his forehead as he stepped into the camp. "I am afraid I am not getting proper nourishment. My wind is not as good as it used to be. Nora darling, you will have to feed your husband better if you expect him to live this strenuous life."

"Did you hit him?" questioned Emma eagerly.

"No."

"Fiddlesticks! If I could not shoot straighter than that I think I should practice until I learned how to shoot."

"No you wouldn't. You would just sit down and 'con-centrate,'" retorted Hippy Wingate. "What do you make of all this, Brown Eyes?"

"More than I can very well express."

"I wish you might have been willing for me to use on him some of the methods employed by the intelligence department of the army to make Boche prisoners talk. He would talk, all right," said Hippy.

"This is not war," reminded Grace.

"No, but it is going to be," answered Hippy briefly. "Well, what do you dope out?"

"I think that the man who was just here is a Thompson man. Did you notice his expression when you mentioned Bat Spurgeon? If ever there was murder in a man's eyes, there was in his."

Hippy nodded.

"From what you overheard the night you were a captive of the mountaineers, you understood that the Spurgeons were going to start trouble with Jed Thompson, did you not?"

"Yes. Of course that may have been mere bluff talk," said Hippy.

"I don't think so. They are a bad lot, all of them. I am glad we have decided to leave this place, for, having a.s.saulted our visitor, we may look for reprisals from Thompson."

"What's the difference? There is a price on my head, so I might as well be a lion as a lamb. Is there any bear meat left?"

"None cooked," replied Nora. "The 'constable' ate it all."

"I hope it gives him indigestion for life," growled Hippy. "I will watch the camp to-night, and, if you hear a rifle fired, don't get excited. It will be the man-with-a-price-on-his-head taking a pot shot at some fellow who is trying to earn the reward."

The Overland Riders did not sleep very well that night, for each of them looked for action from the mountain men. Nothing, however, occurred to disturb the camp.

Next morning Lieutenant Wingate went to the Thompson cabin to get milk, hoping to see Jed Thompson and have a talk with him, but Julie said "Paw" was not at home and might not be for "a right smart time."

While at the cabin, Lieutenant Wingate inquired how to reach the schoolhouse in c.o.o.n Hollow where the dance was to be held that night.

Julie told him in such great detail that Hippy was positive he never should find his way there, but he promised to do his best to get there.

"Ah'd go 'long and show you-all the way if Ah didn't have t' meet mah fellow. Bet you-all'll like him. Name's Lum Bangs an' he kin wallop any fellow in the mountains."

"Do you think he could whip me?" teased Hippy smilingly.

"He sh.o.r.e could. Jist let him lam you-all t'-night and see whether he kin er not."

"Thank you. I prefer to do the 'lamming' myself. When 'Paw' comes home please tell him I wish he would call on us to-day, for we are planning on moving our camp to-morrow. Tell him I wish to have a friendly talk with him."

Julie shook her head vigorously.

"Paw ain't strong on that kind o' talk. He'd rather fit with a man than gab with him."

Lieutenant Wingate asked Julie if she would dance with him, saying that Nora would be glad to have Julie do that.

"Ah will not," she retorted with a fine show of indignation.

"Why not?" teased Hippy.

"'Cause my feller would lam you-all's haid off an' then give me er punch in the jaw."

"Gracious! Lum is a gentle animal, isn't he?" grinned Hippy.

Julie blinked, but made no reply. Hippy said good-bye and went away laughing.

Late that afternoon Grace sent Washington out to learn the way to the schoolhouse, for, otherwise, she knew they would have difficulty in finding their way, for the nights up in the mountains just now were very dark.

Upon his return, the colored boy was unable to give them clear directions as to how to reach the schoolhouse, though his conversation on the subject was voluble, if not specific.

"That will do," rebuked Grace. "Pack all the supplies, except what will be needed for supper." She then consulted with Lieutenant Wingate as to where to stow their possessions so that they might not be disturbed by man or beast during the absence of the party at the mountain dance.

Hippy went out and scouted about for a suitable place for the purpose.

He found it in a hollow in the rocks which he said they could protect by placing stones in front of the opening.

Much of the equipment was stowed there before dark. After supper the rest of it was placed in the opening in the rocks.

"Do we take the rifles with us?" questioned Lieutenant Wingate.

"No, indeed," answered Grace with promptness. "It would not look well."

"Nor does it feel well to be held up or shot at without having the means to defend one's self," answered Hippy. "I shall take my revolver."

"Yes," agreed Grace. "Wear it under your blouse. I will do the same."

They decided to hide the rifles and ammunition in the bushes and trust to luck that no one stumbled on them. When they had finished with their preparations, nothing was left in the camp but the tents and a few blankets, mess kits and provisions being in the cache in the rocks.

One mule was to be ridden by Washington, the other to be left to its fate, hidden in a dense growth of laurel.

"I suppose he will awaken the whole country with his brays," growled Hippy.

"There are mules and mules," observed Emma Dean.

Hippy gave her a quick, keen glance, but her face was guileless.

At eight o'clock the Overland Riders set out on their ponies, Washington Washington in the lead on his pack mule, industriously mouthing his harmonica, the girls laughing and chatting, Hippy silent, lost in contemplation of his own problems.

"Which way to the c.o.o.n Hollow schoolhouse?" called Grace as they pa.s.sed a slowly walking couple a short distance beyond the Thompson home.