And still-----" If that thrown noose of the lariat had settled over the head and shoulders of the sham sleeper it would have made no difference whether he waked or slept--in the end he would have sat before William Drew tied hand and foot.

If that noose had not settled?
The picture of the little piece of paper fluttering to the floor came back with a strange vividness to the mind of Nash, and he had to shrug his shoulders to shake the thought away.
They were in the saddle a very few moments after they awoke and started out, breakfastless.

The rain long ago had ceased, and there was only the solemn silence of the brown hills around them--silence, and a faint, crinkling sound as if the thirsty soil still drank.

It had been a heavy fall of rain, they could see, for whenever they passed a bare spot where no grass grew, it was crossed by a thick tracery of the rivulets which had washed down the slopes during the night.
Soon they reached a little creek whose current, barely knee deep, foamed up around the shoulders of the horses and set them staggering.
"The Saverack will be hell," said Nash, "and we'd better cut straight for the ford." "How long will it take ?" "Add about three hours to the trip." "Can't do it; remember that little date back in Eldara to-night." "Then look for yourself and make up your mind for yourself," said Nash drily, for they topped a hill, and below them saw a mighty yellow flood pouring down the valley.

It went leaping and shouting as if it rejoiced in some destruction it had worked and was still working, and the muddy torrent was threaded with many a ridge of white and swirling with bubbles.
"The Saverack," said Nash.