His lips froze into a thin white line. He did not look at the man with him as they paused for a few moments under the trees which covered the top of the ridge and gazed at a long, gently sloping stretch of nearly open country. It was covered with clumps of trees at intervals, that reached to the dark, narrow opening in the mountains, marking the entrance to Sunrise Canon and the trail to the fastnesses of the higher hills.

"You can swing off here to the left an' down a wide valley to where there's a cut-off into Dry Lake," he heard his captive suggesting. "I don't see any sense in all this hard ridin' an' hidin' if you're goin'

to turn me in."

"We'll go on," growlingly replied Rathburn.

They descended the ridge and entered the long, sloping valley, so wide that it virtually was a plain. They made good headway, although they favored their horses. They took advantage of the shelter provided by the occasional clumps of pines. The afternoon was drawing to a close with the sun dipping sharply toward the western hills when they came in sight of the entrance to the canon. But with the first glimpse they checked their horses and turned into the shelter of some trees near by.

"Beat us to it!" exclaimed Percy.

"Four of 'em," said Rathburn, frowning. "Brown ain't taking any chances. He's a better man than I figured him out. An' there's more of 'em!"

He pointed westward where two riders were barely discernible on the crest of a ridge. They disappeared almost immediately in the timber below.

"We'll turn back," Rathburn decided. "We'll ride with the trees between us an' the men up at the canon, an' keep an eye out for the pair to the west. You might watch that side, an' I'll look out for the east an' south. C'mon, let's drift."

The face of the man who called himself Percy was white and strained as they urged their tired mounts southward. They skirted the western end of the ridge by which they had gained the wide valley and continued on, carefully scanning the landscape in all directions for indications of pursuit. It was plain to them that they had been seen to leave the east trail early that morning. Brown and his men undoubtedly knew they had headed north, and the justice had immediately dispatched men to guard the entrance to the canon trail into the mountains. Then they had begun a systematic search of the locality.

This deduction was strengthened when Rathburn suddenly pointed toward the east. More riders were to be seen on the slope of the valley's side in that direction. Even as they looked, these riders, too, disappeared from view as they dropped down behind a rise of ground.

The sun was going down fast. Already the red banners of the sunset were flaunted in the high western skies. The twilight would be upon them apace--the long-lasting, purple-veiled twilight of the alt.i.tudes.

Then the night would close down with its canopy of stars.

Rathburn looked speculatively at his companion. "We'll make a break for that clump of trees about a quarter of a mile ahead with all our horses have got left," he said, driving in his spurs.

In a last mad dash which taxed every iota of strength and endurance left in their beasts they gained the shelter of the little patch of timber.

"Here we'll wait," said Rathburn coolly as he dismounted.

"What?" cried the other, staring at him incredulously. "We ain't quite surrounded yet. We haven't seen anybody in the south. That way may be open an' it's liable to be closed while we're stayin' here."

"Get off your horse and unsaddle him," commanded Rathburn sternly.

"The best place to hide from a posse is in the middle of it!"

CHAPTER VIII

TWO QUEER MOVES

The captive complied with the order, looking at Rathburn in a peculiar way--half disgusted, half contemptuous. Indeed, he turned his back on the other, leaned against the slender trunk of a pine, and stared steadily into the south. He appeared much worried.

The horses welcomed the chance to rest.

Rathburn walked slowly back and forth the width of the patch of timber, vigilantly keeping watch. He paid no attention whatsoever to the man leaning against the tree. For all the interest he displayed he might have completely forgotten his very existence. In time this got on the other's nerves.

"I believe you lied when you said there was a man killed down there last night," he said coolly.

"I didn't say anybody was killed," Rathburn returned without looking in his direction. "You a.s.sumed that part of it."

"Then you wanted me to think so," said the other in a loud voice. "You was tryin' to throw a scare into me!"

Rathburn swung on his heel and stepped squarely in front of him. "I let you think that to show you what _might_ have happened," he said.

"Such things have happened to me an' swelled the price on my head.

Now, darn you, if you talk that loud again I'll choke your wind off!"

The words came with sinister earnestness, but they seemed to rouse some dormant strain of extraordinary courage in the man to whom they were addressed.

He suddenly leaped from the tree and struck out with all the force at his command.

But Rathburn had antic.i.p.ated the attack. He knocked the other's blow aside and drove his right straight to the jaw.

"There's a little souvenir to show you that I mean business, Percy,"

he panted.

Percy came back to the attack with eyes gleaming with malice. Again he attempted to hit Rathburn, but the latter stepped aside with lightning swiftness and drove home another blow. He followed it up with a left and right and Percy sprawled his length on the gra.s.s.

After a time he sat up, dazed. Rathburn was standing over him. But although he realized fully that he was not a match for Rathburn in physical combat, and doubtless was greatly his inferior with his gun, his spirit was undaunted.

"You better finish me, or drag me in," he gritted; "for I'll get you, if I can. I don't know what your play is, but you've acted too queer to-day for me to believe you're on the square one way or the other."

"You want some more, Percy?"

"My name is Lamy," growlingly replied the other, as he rose cautiously.

"Oh, o-h. Percy Lamy."

"No, just Lamy. Lamy's my name, an' I ain't ashamed of it. You'd find it out--sooner or later--anyway, I--expect." He stammered during this speech as if he had just remembered something--remembered when it was too late.

Rathburn noted the frown and the confused expression in Lamy's eyes.

He turned abruptly and walked away.

A few minutes later he came back to find Lamy sitting with his back to a tree, staring unseeing into the deepening twilight.

"Lamy," he said harshly, "we're going to get away from this posse--maybe. Anyway, soon's it's dark we'll ride south. It's just possible we can leave 'em up here in the hills."

"Suppose I refuse to go?"

"Then I'll have to truss you up an' tie you to your horse, an' don't think I won't do it!" The ring of menace in Rathburn's voice convinced the other, but he made no comment.

When darkness had fallen they saddled their mounts and started. They rode at a jog, keeping as much as possible in the shadow of the timber. Rathburn noticed that the valley gradually widened; he showed interest in his surroundings.

Then, off to the left below them, he saw moving shadows. He called a halt at the next clump of trees. "Lamy, are there any horses running in here that you know of?" he asked.

"There probably are," said Lamy sarcastically; "an' they've probably got riders on 'em."

"No doubt," returned Rathburn gravely. "I just saw some shadows that looked like horses down to the left of us."