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Their prisoner had not eaten. The best he could do was to gulp

down some coffee, for he was in a nervous chill of apprehension.

Every gust of wind seemed to carry to him the patter of pursuit.

The hooting of an owl sent a tremor through him.

"Don't you reckon we had better hurry?" he had asked with dry

lips more than once, while the others were eating.

He asked it again as they were setting off.

Howard looked him over with rising disgust, without answering.

Presently, he remarked, apropos of nothing: "Are all your Texas

wolves coyotes, Steve?"

He would have liked to know at least that it was a man whose life

he was protecting, even though the fellow was also a villain. But

this crumb of satisfaction was denied him.

CHAPTER XVII -- ON THE ROAD TO GIMLET BUTTE

"We'll go out by the river way," said Howard tentatively. "Eh,

what think, Sig? It's longer, but Yorky will be expecting us to

take the short cut over the pass."

The Norwegian agreed. "It bane von chance, anyhow."