Dead or alive!" He looked down at Pringle's face, at Pringle's working fingers, opening and shutting avariciously; he sneered.

"Don't you wish you may get it?
S-sh! Hear what the old man's saying." During the whispered colloquy the old ranger had kept on: "There's where he is, a twenty-to-one shot! He'll lay quiet, likely, thinkin' we'll miss him.

Brush growin' over both the cave mouths, Hargis says, so you might pass right by if you didn't know where to look.

These short nights he couldn't never get clear on foot.

Thirty mile to the next water--we'd find his tracks and catch him.