It required but one look at these two men to cause Westy devoutly to hope that they had not seen him. They were rough characters and of an altogether unpromising appearance. One preceded the other and the leader was tall and lank and wore a mackinaw jacket and a large brimmed felt hat. But for the mackinaw jacket he might have suggested the adventurous western outlaw. But for the romantic hat with flowing brim he might have suggested an eastern thug. The man who followed him wore a sweater and a peaked cap, that dubious outfit which the movies have taught us to associate with prize fighters and metropolitan thugs.
But a more subtle difference distinguished these strangers from each other. The leader walked with a fine swinging stride, the other with that mean carriage effected by short strides and a certain tough swing of the arms. He had a street-corner demeanor about him and a way of looking behind him as if he were continually apprehending the proximity of “cops.” He had an East-Side, police-court, thirty-days-on-the-island look. His companion seemed far above all that.
 
WESTY MOVED NOT A MUSCLE, SCARCELY BREATHED.
Westy moved not a muscle, scarcely breathed. The tree was evidently the destination of these strangers for they approached with a kind of weary satisfaction, which in the smaller man bespoke a certain finality of exhaustion. The leader evidently sensed this without looking behind him, for he referred to it with a suggestion of disgust.
“Yer tired?”
“I ain’t used ter chasin’ aroun’ the world ter duck, pal,” said the other.
“Jes’ roun’ the corner; some cellar or other I reckon?” said the leader.
“Dat’s me,” replied the other.
By this time Westy was satisfied that they had not seen him before or during his ascent, and it seemed to him a miracle that they had not. Ludicrously enough he was conscious of a sort of disappointment that the taller man had not seen him, and this together with the deepest thankfulness for the fact.
There was something inscrutable about this stranger, a suggestion of efficiency and assured power. If Westy could have believed, without peril to himself, that his presence could not escape this man’s eagle vision it would have rounded out the aspect of lawless heroism which the man seemed to have. It was rather jarring to see the fellow fail in a matter in which he should have scored. And this, particularly in view of his subsequent conversation. But Westy’s dominant feeling was one of ineffable relief.
“There ain’t no trail up here?” the smaller man asked, as he looked doubtfully about him.
“I never hide ’long no trails,” the taller man drawled, as he seated himself on the rocky mound which was the roof of the little cave. “I telled yer that, pardner. I ony use trails ter foller others. Long’s I can’t fly I have ter make prints, but yer seen how I started. Prints is no use till yer find ’em. But ready-made trails ’n sech like I never use—got no use fer ’em. Nobody ever tracked me; same’s I never failed ter track any one I set out ter track. When yer see me a-follerin’ a reg’lar trail yer’ll know I’m pursuin’, not pursued, as the feller says. Matter, pardner? Yer sceered?”
“A dog could track us all right,” said the other. “He could scent us along the rails, couldn’t he? Walkin’ the rails for a mile might kid the bulls all right, but not no dog.”
“Nobody never catched me, pardner, an’ nobody never got away from me,” drawled the ot............