He knew there was now nothing that he could do, The current had
evidently sucked the fugitive under, and, dismounting, he groped his
way up the slope, leading the horse by the bridle, and only swung
himself into the saddle when he found the trail again. A carbine
flashed in front of him, two dim figures went by at a gallop, and a
third one flung an order over his shoulder as he passed.
"Go back. The Sergeant's hurt and Shannon has got a bullet in him."
Trooper Payne had surmised as much already, and went back as fast as he
could ride, while the beat of hoofs grew fainter down the trail. Ten
minutes later, he drew bridle close by a man who held a lantern, and
saw Sergeant Stimson sitting very grim in face on the ground. It
transpired later that his horse had fallen and thrown him, and it was
several weeks before he rode again.
"You lost your man?" he said. "Get down."
Payne dismounted. "Yes, sir, I fancy he is dead," he said. "He tried
the river, and the ice wouldn't carry him. I saw him ride away from
here just after the first shot, and fancied he fired at Shannon. Have
you seen him, sir?"
The other trooper moved his lantern, and Payne gasped as he saw a third
man stooping, with the white face of his comrade close by his feet.
Shannon appeared to recognize him, for his eyes moved a little and the
gray lips fell apart. Then Payne turned his head aside while the other
trooper nodded compassionately in answer to his questioning glance.
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