"He done it," said the lout in a frightened way; "but I don't know
who he was."
Within half an hour ten horsemen were clattering after the
murderer, headed by Hale, Logan, and the Infant of the Guard.
Where the road forked, a woman with a child in her arms said she
had seen a tall, black-eyed man with a black moustache gallop up
the right fork. She no more knew who he was than any of the
pursuers. Three miles up that fork they came upon a red-headed man
leading his horse from a mountaineer's yard,
"He went up the mountain," the red-haired man said, pointing to
the trail of the Lonesome Pine. "He's gone over the line. Whut's
he done--killed somebody?"
"Yes," said Hale shortly, starting up his horse.
"I wish I'd a-knowed you was atter him. I'm sheriff over thar."
Now they were without warrant or requisition, and Hale, pulling
in, said sharply:
"We want that fellow. He killed a man at the Gap. If we catch him
over the line, we want you to hold him for us. Come along!" The
red-headed sheriff sprang on his horse and grinned eagerly:
"I'm your man."
"Who was that fellow?" asked Hale as they galloped.
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