Meanwhile, Billy Gee had reached his horse tethered conveniently near by and struck out across the plains. It was still early evening, the sky thick-strewn with brilliant stars. He rode along for a short distance, then stopped and listened for sounds of pursuit. He waited for some time and, convincing himself that Sheriff Warburton had not believed a night pursuit worth while, set his course for Geerusalem. From the distant camp came the thunder of stamp mills grinding loose the yellow treasure from the clinging pulp. A foraging coyote, miles off, yelped dismally.
As he galloped on, Billy Gee laughed. Again he had outwitted the doughty sheriff of San Buenaventura County. There was a reckless pride in the thought. He felt the spur of hazard over the achievement—an urge to do something rash
