“No matter,” said Jed. “Take my word fer it. I didn’t live on th’ plains twenty year fer nothin’. Hello! What’s that?”
He was listening intently, but for some moments the duller ears of the other members of the posse could catch no sound. Then they heard, far up the road, the clatter of horses’ hoofs and the rattle of wheels. The sound came nearer and nearer, and Jed, who was peering through the darkness, suddenly drew his pistol and sprang to the middle of the road.
“Halt!” he cried, and the other members of the posse instinctively drew up behind him, their guns ready.
They could hear the wagon still lumbering toward them.
“Halt, or we fire!” cried Jed, again, but still the wagon came on, and a gray shape appeared in the darkness ahead.
Jed raised his pistol; then, with a sharp exclamation, thrust it back into his belt, sprang forward, and seized the approaching horses by the bridle.
The posse swarmed about the wagon. The sheriff struck a match, and painted on the wagon’s side descried the words:
COALVILLE COAL COMPANY
“Why,” said the sheriff, in bewilderment, “this is th’ rig they run away with!”