Leonard had scarcely left the shore two rods behind him when his pursuer reached the point where he had leaped into the boat.

Pausing a moment and retracing his steps, he ran to the base of a high cliff of rocks, and again blew his whistle.

“Ratter! Beattie! Hawkins! Out here, quick! There’s work to do.”

“Hi! Snags, what is it?” responded a voice apparently coming from the depths of the rock.

“Ihad a prisoner and he has flown. He is in a boat now, rowing for dear life.”

“In a boat! How in thunder did you come to let him get a boat? Who is he, anyhow?”

“Do not ask any questions, but be after him as quick as you can. He must not escape!”

“Well, I’ll call the boys.”

“Confound it, you should not have to call them. Why didn’t you get ready for action when you heard my first whistle?”

“Didn’t suppose there was going to be any trouble of this kind. You ought to have watched him more careful——”

“Well, well. Never mind that now. He is pulling away fast, and every moment is precious.”

“Yes, we’re coming. Can’t you tell a fellow what kind of a job it is, Snags?”

“No, not till Isee Roake. Idon’t know much about it myself yet. Only it’s life or death to get that chap that’s leaving us so fast.”

By this time four men had emerged from an aperture in the rocks, and were hastening to the shore.

“Take two boats, branch out, head him in—be sure that you catch him!” shouted Snags, and before he had fairly ceased speaking, the pursuers were pulling from the shore.

They rowed rapidly, and with a certainty and confidence that betokened an intimate knowledge of the locality.

Snags now turned toward the perpendicular ascent of rock and entered the aperture from which the men had emerged. He stepped into what was apparently a small fissure in the rocks, overhung by a projecting crag.

He proceeded for some distance through a dark passage, and then emerged into a large apartment, dimly lighted by a high, swinging lamp.

It was a cave, the walls of which on all sides were of dark-colored rock, rough and uneven, with moisture oozing out here and there. The ceiling was high, and from it was suspended by a wire the lamp, which cast a ghostly and uncertain glimmer about.

Going directly across the apartment, he came to an opening which branched off in the form of a long, narrow hall. This hall he traversed for some distance, and finally halted before an iron door, over which swung a small lamp.

He knocked. Receiving no answer, he knocked again, louder.

Avolley of oaths greeted his ear, uttered in an angry tone.

Waiting until the storm had subsided, he said:

“Roake, let me in. It is I—Snags. Open the door.”

“What the duse is the matter?” uttered the voice, somewhat more mildly, but still with vexation in the tone.

“I’ll tell you when I’m alone with you.”

Arattling at the latch was now heard, and the iron door swung open heavily. It disclosed an apartment fifteen or twenty feet square, which, like the rooms through which Snags had already passed, was feebly illuminated.

On one side was a bed, and there were tables, chairs, a couch, and a cupboard, in different parts of the room. Everything bore an untidy, disorderly look.

As Snags entered, Roake said:

“Isuppose everything worked all right—didn’t it?”

Instead of replying, Snags said, cautiously:

“Isuppose the ‘Boss’ isn’t around, is he?”

“No, of course not. Why?”

“Nothing, only I’m afraid he wouldn’t be over and above pleased with what I’ve had to do to-night.”

“What have you had to do?” said the other, sharply.

“Well, you see,” said Snags, drawing a long breath, “Igot up to the grove about twelve o’clock, and went to the window mentioned. There was a light in the room, and there sat the colonel, writing. Icould just see this through a corner of the curtain, which was turned up a little. He wrote more’n an hour, and Iout there waiting for him to get through. But he didn’t get through, and Iwas revolving in my mind a change of tactics, when he got up.

“He went to the other side of the room, where Icouldn’t see him, and was gone quite a few minutes. Then he came back to the table and sat down, and I’m blamed if he didn’t go to writing again. Says Ito myself, Snags, this ain’t a going to do. It’ll be daylight before you do your work, and if you’re seen in Dalton things may work wrong. Ithought, too, that he might be writing on the very document that was wanted. So Imade up my mind to crawl in behind him and see what Icould see. Imoved along to the other window, so as to be directly behind him, and pulled open the wooden shutters. The sash was raised, and so was the curtain, part way, so that all Ihad to do was to crawl in pretty quiet.

“Well, Igot inside, and stood up and looked over his shoulder. Good Lord! you can’t guess what Isaw on the table. Ajolly old heap of gold coin, and there it is, too!”

Snags reached down into the depths of a huge pocket, and drew out several handfuls of eagles and half eagles. He threw them down on the table, and the eyes of both the men sparkled.

The face of Roake expressed a greedy joy, but he said in an impatient tone:

“Well, what next? What did you do then? How did you get the gold?”

“Iwas going to say,” resumed Snags, “that just as Iwas feasting my optics on the shiners, the old man noticed my shadow, and looked up. He saw me standing there, and Ithink you’ll own it was rather a ticklish place. Ihadn’t but one thing to do. You know yourself that Iain’t very fond of it, and confound it, it wasn’t my fault—it couldn’t be helped—Ihad to stick him——”

“You fool, you! Did you——”

“Yes, needn’t say the word, Idid it, but upon my word Ididn’t intend to let the life out of him. Ionly meant to quiet him for a few moments, while Igot the booty.”

Snags hesitated as if at a loss how to proceed further. He glanced furtively at his companion, and evidently feared his displeasure. But the other only said:

“Well, what then? You got the booty, that’s one good thing. Did you get anything else?”

“No, and I’ll tell you why. The minute Irun it into him, Iheard a carriage coming along the road, and so Igrabbed the gold and jumped out of the window. Ihid in the bushes, and presently a young cuss come stealing into the yard, looking about as if he thought things wasn’t all right. Iwatched him, and he went into the house, right where the old man was leaning his head on the table, and the blood on the floor by his side. He seemed mighty scared at the looks of things, and took from the old man’s hand a scrap of paper he was clutching even when dead. Icrept close up to the window, so as to see well, when the young chap come out. Iheld up this joker,” and Snags drew the long knife from his breast and laid it on the table, “and told him to wait a minute, Iwanted to see him. Itold him he must give up that paper he had taken from the colonel’s hand, but he vowed he wouldn’t. He called the old man his uncle, and asked me what Ikilled him for.

“But Icouldn’t stop to waste no words with him, and so we got into a tussle. By gum! he was a wiry chap, if he was little; and he got away from me, too. He ran into the road, jumped into his buggy, and drove like mad into the town. But Ihad Bill all saddled, under the trees, and Igot on him as quick as Icould, and went after him. Thunder! how he did go! But Icaught him just as he was going up toward the livery-stable, and had to knock him in the head; for it wouldn’t do, you know, to raise a muss, and make a noise right in the village.

“Iput him on the horse in front of me, and streaked it for this spot. When we’d rode as far as we could, Itook him down and made him walk; and—would you believe it?—though Ifollowed him up close, he gave me the slip again, and ran like split down the shore, jumped in a skiff, and rowed off.”

“The devil he did,” said Roake. “You’ve made a pretty mess of it, all around. You ain’t so sharp as you used to be. And so the fellow has escaped, has he?”

“Ihope not,” said Snags. “Rattler and the others are out with two boats after him, and as he didn’t get much of a start Ithink they’ll catch him. It’ll be mighty serious business if they don’t.”

“How’s that?”

“He’ll bring officers here, and they’ll burst up the whole nest of us.”

“That would be a bad job. And you can have your cursed blundering to thank for it. Just think of it; to kill a man when it was not in the game, and then to let a prisoner escape from you so easily.”

“Don’t blow, Roake. Icouldn’t help it. There is one thing we can do; if our man is not caught we can leave this place, and take a journey that leaves no trail.”

“Ihate to do that.”

“So do I. But self-preservation, and so forth, you know.”

Both men were silent for a short time, when Snags said:

“I’m mighty hungry, Roake, and dry as a fish. Aman must eat and drink after such a job as I’ve been through.”

“You’ll find what you want in the cupboard there,” said Roake.

He lit a pipe, and smoked furiously, muttering:

“Idon’t know what the boss will say.”

Snags proceeded to eat with a voracity that attested a good appetite, and a mind untroubled, for the time, by the bloody scene in which he had so recently been the chief actor.

The men conversed no more together, but each occupied himself with his own thoughts, and anxiously awaited the appearance of Leonard Lester, who at that moment had nearly abandoned all hope of eluding the four men who were pursuing him with their boats.