Thus he knew that the first man was not yet aware that he was being followed.
But some time later to Sanderson's ears was borne the faint, muffled report of a firearm, and he smiled solemnly.
"That first guy will know, now," he told himself.

Sanderson kept steadily on.

In half an hour he heard half a dozen rifle reports in quick succession, He could see the smoke puffs of the weapons, and he knew the pursuit was over.
The second riders had brought the first to bay in a section of broken country featured by small, rock-strewn hills.

By watching the smoke balloon upward, Sanderson could determine the location of the men.
It seemed to Sanderson that the two had separated, one swinging westward and the other eastward, in an endeavor to render hazardous any concealment the other might find.

It was the old game of getting an enemy between two fires, and Sanderson's lips curved with an appreciative grin as he noted the fact.
"Old-timers," he said.
It was not Sanderson's affair.