Now it so happened that the animal alluded to had broken loose during the night, and, as Bloody Jim had appropriated his services without consulting his master, who was an honest farmer living in the vicinity of St. Paul, the sagacious beast deliberately set out to return to his former comfortable quarters.
The natural conclusion of the villains was that Little Wolf had fled on their missing horse, and so when they had succeeded in finding his track they followed it. Mile after mile of their former route was retraced. Hour after hour they plodded on, scarcely stopping to give their beasts necessary rest until the night overtook them, and then were only delayed for a short time. They rose with the moon, and, in a few hours actually came in sight of the deserter. He was drinking at the river's brink within sound of the roar of St. Anthony's Falls. Perceiving his pursuers approaching, the noble beast threw up his head, gave a loud snort and darted off.
Bloody Jim gave an impatient grunt, but Ketchum clapped his hands with delight. "Golly: the gal must be near here," said he.
"No, me think she got to the tavern on yonder hill. We must find a hiding place, Ketchum, and me have the gal yet, or the constable have me."
Bloody Jim little thought when he made his boast that he would be in the power of the constable before night, but so it was. The riderless horse having been seen at St. Anthony's, suspicions were aroused, a search was instituted, and the result was the capture of the imprudent and high-handed outlaw.
To all questions put to him concerning Little Wolf, he had but one answer, "me not know."
Threats and bribes elicited nothing more and it was generally supposed that he had murdered her. But as the whole affair was shrouded in mystery, there was some few inclined to the opinion, that she was secreted in some place, from which the protracted absence of Bloody Jim would give her an opportunity to escape. Among the last named was Dr. Goodrich and Edward Sherman.
The Doctor was not at the examination of the prisoner, and Edward hastened to inform him of the result. He was at his old haunt, and, as usual, under the influence of stimulus when Edward entered.
"No satisfactory information could be obtained from the old scoundrel," said he, throwing himself upon a lounge.
The events of the past few days had worn upon him, and his anxious look did not escape Hank Glutter, who turned away to conceal his exultation.