"Barton Smith!" called the sheriff, suddenly from the rear of the party. There was no answer, and Seymour felt his prophetic blood run cold. His conscience began to stir. Had he, indeed, no foundation for his suspicion?
"Smith! Smith" cried the irascible officer. "Hey, there! Is the man deaf?"
"Not deef, edzac'ly," Meddlesome's voice sounded reproachfully; "jes a leetle hard o' hearin'." She had administered a warning nudge.
"Hey? What ye want?" said the "Wolf's Head," suddenly checking his horse.
"Have you any idea of where you are going, or how far?" demanded the officer, sternly.
"Just acrost the gorge," the guide answered easily.
"I heard he had been glimpsed in a hollow tree. That word was telephoned from the cross-roads to town. It was the tree the skeleton was in."
"That tree? It's away back yander," observed one of the posse, reluctant and disaffected.
"Oh, he has quit that tree; he is bound for up the gorge now," said the guide.
"Well, I suppose you know, from what I was told," said the sheriff, discontentedly; "but this is a long ja'nt. Ride up! Ride up!"