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Updated: June 26, 2025
If Wandle's been there looking for horses, he'll strike south and take the trail we left, farther on. You'll head down that way and watch out to cut him off if he lights out before I come up." Prescott understood the maneuver.
Prescott told her briefly what he had learned at Navarino and of Wandle's capture; and her deep satisfaction was obvious. "I'm so glad!" she exclaimed. "This will make it easier for the others, though it doesn't affect me. If I had had any doubts, I couldn't have loved you. But I'm pleased you told me before you were really cleared.
Below him, but farther from the bottom of the dipping track than he was, Wandle's horses were plunging downhill at a furious gallop, the rig jolting behind them, the driver leaning forward and using the whip. There was no sign of Stanton except the pounding of hoofs that rose among the trees. Then the slope grew dangerously sharp and Prescott set his teeth.
Stanton dismounted and struck a few matches, examining the snow carefully. "Nothing to show which way Wandle's gone," he reported. "Somebody's been along with a bob-sled not long ago and rubbed out his tracks. Anyhow, I'll take the shorter fork." They separated; the trooper riding on in the moonlight and Prescott entering the gloom of the trees. He soon found the trial remarkably uneven.
As the man would pass within a mile or two of Wandle's homestead and there was a farm in the neighborhood where he might borrow a horse, Prescott agreed. His companion found him preoccupied during the journey. He put him down at a fork of the trail, and Prescott, walking on quickly through the darkness, saw Wandle's team standing harnessed when he reached the house.
The officer was acquainted with all that Prescott had told Curtis about his absence in search of the missing man, and had been advised by telegraph of the assistance he had rendered in Wandle's arrest.
Riding with savage determination, he sped on, the snow flying up behind him, the thrill of the pursuit firing his blood and filling him with fierce excitement. Wandle's fresh team was going at a gallop, the hoofs beating out a sharp drumming that mingled with the furious rattle of wheels, and through these sounds broke a rapid, pounding thud which told that Stanton was following hard behind.
"Are there any homesteads on the way?" "Nothing near the trail. There's a shack where two fellows cutting cordwood camp." Prescott considered when he had thanked the man. He was tired and his horse was far from fresh, but he understood that Wandle's team was in a worse condition. There was a possibility of his overtaking him, if he pushed on at once.
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