No; the only logical retreat for Quintana was northward to the mountains, where patrols were plenty and fire-wardens on duty in every watch-tower. Or, the fugitive could make for Drowned Valley by a blind trail which, Stormont informed him, existed but which Lannis never had heard of.
However, to reassure himself, Lannis rode as far as Harrod Place, and found game wardens on duty along the line.
Then he turned west and trotted his mount down to the hatchery, where he saw Ralph Wier, the Superintendent, standing outside the lodge talking to his assistant, George Fry.
When Lannis rode up on the opposite side of the brook, he called across to Wier:
"You haven't seen anything of any crooked outfit around here, have you,
Ralph? I'm looking for that kind."
"See here," said the Superintendent, "I don't know but George Fry may have seen one of your guys. Come over and he'll tell you what happened an hour ago."
Trooper Lannis pivotted his horse and put him to the brook with scarcely any take-off; and the splendid animal cleared the water like a deer and came cantering up to the door of the lodge.
Fry's boyish face seemed agitated; he looked up at the State Trooper with the flush of tears in his gaze and pointed at the rifle Lannis carried:
"If I'd had that," he said excitedly, "I'd have brought in a crook, you bet!"
"Where did you see him?" inquired Lannis.