country," Fargo said at last. "And nothing in the world that I see—considering how long it will take to send word—can stop it."
José agreed. "Just you and I do the work?" he asked.
"Yes. The others can't be trusted. But remember—I'm paying you the limit—a whole year's pay for a night's work. A thousand dollars—don't forget."
José's eyes showed that he had not forgotten. "It'll take fast horses," he said. "We don't want to get caught ourselves."
"No danger of that; but there'll be plenty of riding to do, as you say. It's a straight-out course—and to-morrow night we go."
To-morrow night! To Hugh and Alice, in the distant sheep camp, it meant almost the end of Fargo's menace. Another day and another night thereafter, and September would be gone: the forest rangers would come riding into Smoky Land to establish their headquarters. The days of lawlessness would be over. And the man and the girl were exultant as two children as the fire's glow spread its glamor over them.
"We're going to win, Hugh," she told him. "They've had weeks to strike, and they haven't struck, and I think we're safe. And it means so much."
But Hugh shook his head. "It's true that they haven't struck," he agreed, "and yet I can't believe we're safe. You didn't see Fargo's face
