The brief hour of darkness that preceded the dawn was that night intensified¹ by a dense² smoke, which, after blotting³ out horizon and sky, dropped a thick veil on the high road and the silent streets of Indian Spring. As the buggy containing Sheriff Dunn and Brace⁴ dashed through the obscurity, Brace suddenly turned to his companion.  
“Some one ahead!”
 
The two men bent⁵ forward over the dashboard. Above the steady plunging⁶ of their own horse-hoofs⁷ they could hear the quicker irregular beat of other hoofs in the darkness before them.
 
“It's that horse thief!” said Dunn, in a savage⁸ whisper. “Bear to the right, and hand me the whip.”
 
A dozen cuts of the cruel lash⁹, and their maddened horse, bounding at each stroke, broke into a wild canter. The frail¹⁰ vehicle swayed from side to side at each spring of the elastic¹¹ shafts¹². Steadying himself by one hand on the low rail, Dunn drew his revolver with the other. “Sing out to him to pull up, or we'll fire. My voice is clean gone,” he added, in a husky whisper.
 
They were so near that they could distinguish the bulk of a vehicle careering from side to side in the blackness ahead. Dunn deliberately¹³ raised his weapon. “Sing out!” he repeated impatiently. But Brace, who was still keeping in the shadow, suddenly grasped his companion's arm.
 
“Hush! It's NOT Buckskin,” he whispered hurriedly.
 
“Are you sure?”
 
“DON'T YOU SEE WE'RE GAINING ON HIM?” replied the other contemptuously. Dunn grasped his companion's hand and pressed it silently. Even in that supreme¹⁴ moment this horseman's tribute to the fugitive¹⁵ Buckskin forestalled¹⁶ all baser considerations of pursuit and capture!
 
In twenty seconds they were abreast¹⁷ of the stranger, crowding his horse and buggy nearly into the ditch; Brace keenly watchful¹⁸, Dunn suppressed and pale. In half a minute they were leading him a length; and when their horse again settled down to his steady work, the stranger was already lost in the circling dust that followed them. But the victors seemed disappointed. The obscurity had completely hidden all but the vague outlines of the mysterious driver.
 
“He's not our game, anyway,” whispered Dunn. “Drive on.”
 
“But if it was some friend of his,” suggested Brace uneasily, “what would you do?”
 
“What I SAID I'd do,” responded Dunn savagely¹⁹. “I don't want five minutes to do it in, either; we'll be half an hour ahead of that d—d fool, whoever he is. Look here; all you've got to do is to put me in the trail to that cabin. Stand back of me, out of gun-shot, alone, if you like, as my deputy, or with any number you can pick up as my posse. If he gets by me as Nellie's lover, you may shoot him or take him as a horse thief, if you like.”
 
“Then you won't shoot him on sight?”
 
“Not till I've had a word with him.”
 
“But—”
 
“I've chirped,” said the sheriff gravely. “Drive on.”
 
For a few moments only the plunging hoofs and rattling²⁰ wheels were heard. A dull, lurid²¹ glow began to define the horizon. They were silent until an abatement²² of the smoke, the vanishing of the gloomy horizon line, and a certain impenetrability in the darkness ahead showed them they were nearing the Carquinez Woods. But they were surprised on entering them to find the dim aisles²³ alight with a faint mystic Aurora²⁴. The tops of the towering spires²⁵ above them had caught the gleam of the distant forest fires, and reflected it as from a gilded²⁶ dome²⁷.
 
“It would be hot work if the Carquinez Woods should conclude to take a hand in this yer little game that's going on over on the Divide yonder,” said Brace, securing his horse and glancing at the spires overhead. “I reckon I'd rather take a back seat at Injin Spring when the show commences.”
 
Dunn did not reply, but, buttoning his coat, placed one hand on his companion's shoulder, and sullenly²⁸ bade him “lead the way.” Advancing slowly and with difficulty the desperate man might have been taken for a peaceful invalid²⁹ returning from an early morning stroll. His right hand was buried thoughtfully in the side pocket of his coat. Only Brace knew that it rested on the handle of his pistol.
 
From time to time the latter stopped and consulted the faint trail with a minuteness that showed recent careful study. Suddenly he paused. “I made a blaze hereabouts to show where to leave the trail. There it is,” he added, pointing to a slight notch³⁰ cut in the trunk of an adjoining tree.
 
“But we've just passed one,” said Dunn, “if that's what you are looking after, a hundred yards back.”
 
Brace uttered an oath, and ran back in the direction signified by his companion. Presently he returned with a smile of triumph.
 
“They've suspected something. It's a clever trick, but it won't hold water. That blaze which was done to muddle³¹ you was cut with an axe³²; this which I made was done with a bowie-knife. It's the real one. We're not far off now. Come on.”
 
They proceeded cautiously, at right angles with the “blazed” tree, for ten minutes more. The heat was oppressive; drops of perspiration³³ rolled from the forehead of the sheriff, and at times, when he attempted to steady his uncertain limbs, his hands shrank from the heated, blistering³⁴ bark he touched with ungloved palms.
 
“Here we are,” said Brace, pausing at last. “Do you see that biggest tree, with the root stretching out halfway³⁵ across to the opposite one?”
 
“No, it's further to the right and abreast of the dead brush,” interrupted Dunn quickly, with a sudden revelation that this was the spot where he had found the dead bear in the night Teresa escaped.
 
“That's so,” responded Brace, in astonishment³⁶.
 
“And the opening is on the other side, opposite the dead brush,” said Dunn.
 
“Then you know it?” said Brace suspiciously.
 
“I reckon!” responded Dunn, grimly. “That's enough! Fall back!”
 
To the surprise of his companion, he lifted his head erect³⁷, and with a strong, firm step walked directly to the tree. Reaching it, he planted himself squarely before the opening.
 
“Halloo!” he said.
 
There was no reply. A squirrel scampered³⁸ away close to his feet. Brace, far in the distance, after an ineffectual attempt to distinguish his companion through the intervening trunks, took off his coat, leaned against a tree, and lit a cigar.
 
“Come out of that cabin!” continued Dunn, in a clear, resonant³⁹ voice. “Come out before I drag you out!”
 
“All right, 'Captain Scott.' Don't shoot, and I'll come down,” said a voice as clear and as high as his own. The hanging strips of bark were dashed aside, and a woman leaped lightly to the ground.
 
Dunn staggered back. “Teresa! by the Eternal!”
 
It was Teresa! the old Teresa! Teresa, a hundred times more vicious, reckless, hysterical⁴⁰, extravagant⁴¹, and outrageous⁴² than before. Teresa, staring with tooth and eye, sunburnt and embrowned, her hair hanging down her shoulders, and her shawl drawn⁴³ tightly around her neck.
 
“Teresa it is! the same old gal⁴⁴! Here we are again! Return of the favorite in her original character! For two weeks only! Houp la! Tshk!” and, catching⁴⁵ her yellow skirt with her fingers, she pirouetted before the astounded⁴⁶ man, and ended in a pose. Recovering himself with an effort, Dunn dashed forward and seized her by the wrist.
 
“Answer me, woman! Is that Low's cabin?”
 
“It is.”
 
“Who occupies it besides?”
 
“I do.”
 
“And who else?”
 
“Well,” drawled Teresa slowly, with an extravagant affectation of modesty⁴⁷, “nobody else but us, I reckon. Two's company, you know, and three's none.”
 
“Stop! Will you swear t............