Page 8 of They of the High Trails

  VII

  THE OUTLAW

  I

  Freeman Ward, geologist for the government, was not altogether easy inhis mind as he led his little pack-train out of Pinedale, a frontiersettlement on the western slope of the Rocky Mountain divide, for he hadpermitted the girl of his deepest interest to accompany him on hisexpedition.

  Alice Mansfield, accustomed to having her way, and in this casepresuming upon Ward's weakness, insisted on going. Outwardly he hadargued against it, making much of the possible storms, of the roughtrails, of the cold and dampness. But she argued that she was quite asable to go as Mrs. Adams, the wife of the botanist of the expedition. SoWard had yielded, and here these women were forming part of a cavalcadewhich was headed for Fremont Peak, concerning whose height and formationthe leader wished to inform himself. Alice was, however, a bit dashed byWard's change of manner as he laid upon his train his finalinstructions.

  "There is to be no skylarking," he said, "and no back-tracking. Each oneis to exercise great care. We cannot afford to lose a horse nor wasteour provisions. This is not a picnic excursion, but a seriousgovernment enterprise. I cannot turn back because of any discomfort youmay encounter in camp."

  "I am ready for what comes," Alice answered, smilingly.

  But she rode for the rest of the day remarkably silent. There had beentimes when she was certain that Ward cared a great deal for her--not inthe impersonal way indicated by his reprimand--but in the way of alover, and she was very fond of him, had indeed looked forward to thistrip in his company as one sure to yield hours of delightful intimacy.On the train he had been very devoted, "almost lover-like," Peggy Adamsinsisted. But now she was dismayed by his tone of military command.

  Their first day's march brought them to a beautiful water called HeartLake, which shone dark and deep amid its martial firs at the head of oneof the streams which descended into the East Fork, and there the guidesadvised a camp. They were now above the hunters, almost above the game,in a region "delightfully primeval," as the women put it, and verybeautiful and peaceful.

  After the tents were in order and the supper eaten, Alice, having tunedup her little metal banjo, began to twitter tender melodies (to themoon, of course), and the long face of the man of science broadened andhe seemed less concerned about rocks and fauna and flora.

  The camp was maintained at Heart Lake for a day while Ward and his menexplored the various gorges in order to discover a way into BlizzardBasin, which was their goal. They returned to camp each time more andmore troubled about the question of taking the women over the divideinto the "rough country" which lay to the north.

  "It is a totally different world," Adams explained to his wife. "It iscolder and stormier over there. The forest on the north slopes is fullof down-timber and the cliffs are stupendous. I wish you girls were backin the settlement," and in this wish Ward heartily joined.

  However, the more they talked the more determined the women were to go.

  It was like a May day the following noon as they left timber-line and,following the row of tiny monuments set up by the foresters, enteredupon the wide and undulating stretch of low edges which led to thesummit. The air was clear and the verdureless shapes of the monstrouspeaks stood sharp as steel against the sky. The tender grass was filledwith minute glistening flowers. The wind was gentle, sweet, moist, andcool.

  "Pooh!" said Alice, "this is absurdly easy. Freeman has been telling usdreadful tales all along just to be rid of us."

  But she began to admit that her escort of four strong men was a comfort,as the guide explained that this "rough country" had long been known asthe retreat of cattle-thieves and outlaws.

  "Do you think there are any such men in here now?" asked Mrs. Adams.

  "Undoubtedly," Ward said; "but I don't think, from the condition of thistrail, that they come in on this side of the range. I suspect it's toolonely even for a cattle-thief."

  They unsaddled that night on the bank of a stream near a small meadow,and around the camp-fire discussed the trail which they were to takenext day. The guides agreed that it was "a holy terror," which madeAlice the more eager to traverse it.

  "I like trails that make men quake. I welcome adventure--that's what Icame for," she said.

  Early the next forenoon, as they were descending the steep north-slopetrail, Alice gave out a cry of pain, and Adams called to Ward:

  "Hold on! Allie's horse is down."

  Ward was not surprised. He rode in continual expectation of trouble. Shewas forever trying short cuts and getting snared in the fallen logs.Once she had been scraped from her saddle by an overhanging bough, andnow, in attempting to find an easier path down a slippery ridge, herhorse had fallen with her. Ward was ungracious enough to say:

  "Precisely what I've warned her against," but he hurried to her relief,nevertheless.

  "Are you badly hurt?" he asked, as she stood before him, striving tokeep back her tears of pain.

  "Oh no, not at all badly. My foot was jammed a little. Please help me onto my horse; I'll be all right in a minute."

  She put so good a face on her accident that he helped her into hersaddle and ordered the train to move on; but Peggy perceived that thegirl was suffering keenly.

  "Sha'n't we stop, Allie?" she called, a few minutes later.

  "No. I'll be all right in a few minutes."

  She rode on for nearly half an hour, bravely enduring her pain, but atlast she turned to Mrs. Adams and cried out: "I can't stand it, Peggy!My foot pains me frightfully!"

  Adams again called to Ward and the procession halted, while Ward cameback, all his anger gone.

  "We'll go into camp," he said, as he examined her bruised foot. "You'rebadly hurt."

  "It's a poor place to camp, Professor," protested Gage. "If she can goon for about fifteen minutes--"

  "I'll try," she said; "but I can't bear the stirrup, and my shoe is fullof blood."

  Ward, who was now keenly sympathetic, put her on his own horse andwalked beside her while they slowly crawled down into the small valley,which held a deep and grassy tarn. Here they went into camp and the daywas lost.

  Alice was profoundly mortified to find herself the cause of the untimelyhalt, and as she watched the men making camp with anxious, irritatedfaces she wept with shame of her folly. She had seized the worstpossible moment, in the most inaccessible spot of their journey, tocommit her crowning indiscretion.

  She was ill in every nerve, shivering and weak, and remained for thatday the center of all the activities of the camp. Ward, very tender evenin his chagrin, was constantly at her side, his brow knotted with care.He knew what it meant to be disabled two hundred miles from a hospital,with fifty miles of mountain trail between one's need and a roof, butAlice buoyed herself up with the belief that no bones were broken, andthat in the clear air of the germless world her wound would quicklyheal.

  She lay awake a good part of that night, hearing, above the roar of thewater, the far-off noises of the wild-animal world. A wolf howled, a catscreamed, and their voices were fear-inspiring.

  She began also to worry about the effect of her mishap on theexpedition, for she heard Ward say to Adams: "This delay is veryunfortunate. Our stay is so limited. I fear we will not be able toproceed for some days, and snow is likely to fall at any time."

  What they said after that Alice could not hear, but she was in fullpossession of their trouble. It was not a question of the loss of a fewdays; it meant the possible failure of the entire attempt to reach thesummit.

  "Peggy," she declared, next morning, "the men must push on and leave youwith me here in the camp. I will not permit the expedition to fail on myaccount."

  This seemed a heroic resolution at the moment, with the menacing soundsof the night still fresh in her ears, but it was the most natural andreasonable thing in the world at the moment, for the sun was rising warmand clear and the valley was as peaceful and as beautiful as a park.

  Mrs. Adams readily agreed to stay, for she was wholly free from theordinary timidi
ties of women, but Ward, though sorely tempted, replied:

  "No. We'll wait a day or two longer and see how you come on."

  At this point one of the guides spoke up, saying: "If the women would bemore comfortable in a cabin, there's one down here in the brush by thelake. I found it this morning when I was wranglin' the horses."

  "A cabin! In this wild place?" said Alice.

  "Yes, ma'am--must be a ranger's cabin."

  Ward mused. "If it's habitable it would be warmer and safer than a tent.Let's go see about it."

  He came back jubilant. "It doesn't seem to have been occupied veryrecently, but is in fair shape. We'll move you right down there."

  The wounded girl welcomed the shelter of a roof, and it was good to feelsolid logs about her helpless self. The interior of the hut was untidyand very rude, but it stood in a delightful nook on the bank of a pondjust where a small stream fell into the valley, and it required but afew minutes of Mrs. Adams's efforts to clear the place out and make itcozy, and soon Alice, groaning faintly, was deposited in the rough polebunk at the dark end of the room. What an inglorious end to her exaltedride!

  Ward seemed to understand her tears as he stood looking down upon her,but he only said: "I dislike leaving you, even for the day. I shall giveup my trip."

  "No, no! you must go on!" she cried out. "I shall hate myself if youdon't go on."

  He reluctantly yielded to her demand, but said: "If I find that we can'tget back to-morrow I will send Gage back. He's a trusty fellow. I can'tspare Adams, and Smith and Todd--as you know--are paying for theirtrip."

  Mrs. Adams spoke up firmly. "You need not worry about us. We can getalong very well without anybody. If you climb the peak you'll need Gage.I'm not afraid. We're the only people in this valley, and with thisstaunch little cabin I feel perfectly at home."

  "That's quite true," replied Ward in a relieved tone. "We are above thehunters--no one ever crosses here now. But it will be lonely."

  "Not at all!" Alice assured him. "We shall enjoy being alone in theforest."

  With slow and hesitating feet Ward left the two women and swung into hissaddle. "I guess I'll send Gage back, anyhow," he said.

  "Don't think of it!" called Peggy.

  As a matter of fact, Alice was glad to have the men pull out. Theirpity, their reproach, irritated her. It was as if they repeated aloud ascornful phrase--"You're a lovely and tempting creature, but you're afool-hen just the same."

  The two women spent the day peacefully, save now and then when Alice'swounded foot ached and needed care; but as night began to rise in thecanyon like the smoke of some hidden, silent, subterranean fire, and thehigh crags glowed in the last rays of the sun, each of them acknowledgeda touch of that immemorial awe of the darkness with which the racebegan.

  Peggy, seating herself in the doorway, described the scene to herpatient, who could see but little of it. "Oh, but it's gloriouslyuncanny to be here. Only think! We are now alone with God and Hisanimals, and the night."

  "I hope none of God's bears is roaming about," replied Alice,flippantly.

  "There aren't any bears above the berries. We're perfectly safe. Mysoul! but it's a mighty country! I wish you could see the glow on thepeaks."

  "I'm taking my punishment," replied Alice. "Freeman was very angry,wasn't he?"

  "If it breaks off the match I won't be surprised," replied Peggy, withresigned intonation.

  "There wasn't any match to break off."

  "Well!" replied the other, and as she slowly rose she added: "I won'tsay that he is perfectly distracted about you, but I do know that hethinks more of you than of any other woman in the world, and I've nodoubt he is worrying about you this minute."

  II

  It was deep moonless night when Alice woke with a start. For a fewmoments she lay wondering what had roused her--then a bright lightflashed and her companion screamed.

  "Who's there!" demanded the girl.

  In that instant flare she saw a man's face, young, smooth, with darkeyes gleaming beneath a broad hat. He stood like a figure of bronzewhile his match was burning, then exclaimed in breathless wonder:

  "Great Peter's ghost! a woman!" Finally he stepped forward and lookeddown upon the white, scared faces as if uncertain of his senses. "Two ofthem!" he whispered. As he struck his second match he gently asked:"Would you mind saying how you got here?"

  Alice spoke first. "We came up with a geological survey. I got hurt andthey had to leave us behind."

  "Where's your party gone?"

  "Up to the glaciers."

  "When did they leave?"

  "Yesterday morning."

  "When do you expect them back?"

  "Not for two or three days."

  He seemed to ponder a moment. "You say you're hurt? Where?"

  "My horse slipped and fell on my foot."

  "Wait a minute," he commanded. "I'll rustle a candle. I left one here."

  When his form came out of the dark blur behind his candle Aliceperceived that he was no ordinary hunter. He was young, alert, and verygood-looking, although his face was stern and his mouth bitter. He laidaside his hat as he approached the bunk in which the two women werecowering as mice tremble before a cat. For a full minute he looked downat them, but at last he smiled and said, in a jocular tone:

  "You're sure-enough women, I can see that. You'll excuse me--but when aman comes back to a shack in the middle of the night in a place likethis and finds a couple of women in a bunk he's likely to think he'sseeing pictures in his sleep."

  "I can understand that," Alice returned, recovering her self-command."You're the ranger, I suppose? I told my friend here that you mightreturn."

  "I'm mighty glad I did," he said, heartily.

  "Thank you; you're very kind."

  He bent a keen glare upon her. "What's your name?"

  "Alice Mansfield."

  "What's your friend's name?"

  "Mrs. Adams."

  "Are you a missis, too?"

  She hesitated. This was impertinent, but then she herself was anintrusive guest. "No," she answered, "I am not married."

  "Where are you from?"

  "New York City."

  "You're a long way from home."

  "Yes, I'm feeling that this minute." She drew the coverlet a littlecloser to her chin.

  He quickly read this sign. "You needn't be afraid of me."

  "I'm not."

  "Yes, you are. You're both all of a tremble and white as two sheep--"

  "It isn't that," wailed the girl; "but I've twisted my foot again." Hermoan of pain broke the spell that bound Peggy.

  "Would you leave, please, for a moment?" she called to the owner of thecabin. "I've got to get up and doctor my patient."

  "Sure!" he exclaimed, moving toward the door. "If I can do anything letme know."

  As soon as her patient's aching foot was eased Peggy opened the door andpeeped out. A faint flare of yellow had come into the east, and besidethe fire, rolled in his blanket, the ranger was sleeping. Frost coveredeverything and the air was keen.

  "He's out there on the cold ground--with only one blanket."

  "What a shame! Tell him to come inside--I'm not afraid of him."

  "Neither am I--but I don't believe he'll come. It's 'most morning,anyway--perhaps I'd better not disturb him."

  "Take one of these quilts to him--that will help some."

  Mrs. Adams lifted one of the coverlets and, stealing softly up, wasspreading it over the sleeper when he woke with a start, a wild glare ofalarm in his eyes.

  "Oh, it's you!" he said in relief. Then he added, as he felt the extracover: "That's mighty white of you. Sure you don't need it?"

  "We can spare it. But won't you come inside? I'm sorry we drove you outof your cabin."

  "That's all right. I'm used to this. Good night. I'm just about dead forsleep."

  Thus dismissed, Peggy went back and lay down beside Alice. "He says he'squite comfortable," she remarked, "and I hope he is, but he doesn't lookit."

/>   When she woke again it was broad daylight and Alice was turningrestlessly on her hard bed. In the blaze of the sun all the mystery ofthe night vanished. The incident of the return of the ranger to hiscabin was as natural as the coming of dawn.

  "He probably makes regular trips through here," said Mrs. Adams.

  But the wounded girl silently differed, for she had read in the man'seyes and voice a great deal more than belonged to the commonplacecharacter of a forest-ranger. That first vision of his face burned deep.

  She had seen on the wall of the station at "the road" the description ofa train-robber which tallied closely with this man's general appearance,and the conviction that she was living in the hidden hut of an outlawgrew into a certainty. "I must not let him suspect my discovery," shethought.

  Mrs. Adams (who had not read the placard) treated the young fellow as ifhe were one of the forest wardens, manifesting complete confidence inhim.

  He deftly helped her about breakfast, and when she invited him into thecabin he came readily, almost eagerly, but he approached Alice's bedwith a touch of hesitation, and his glance was softer and his voicegentler as he said:

  "Well, how do you stack up this morning?"

  "Much better, thank you."

  "Must have been a jolt--my coming in last night the way I did?"

  "I guess the 'jolt' was mutual. You looked surprised."

  He smiled again, a faint, swift half-smile. "Surprised! That's no namefor it. For a minute I thought I'd fallen clear through. I hope youdidn't get a back-set on account of it."

  "Oh no, thank you."

  "How many men are in your party?"

  "Six, counting the guides."

  "Who are the men?"

  She named them, and he mused darkly, his eyes on her face. "I reckon Ican't wait to make their acquaintance. I'm going on down the Green Riverto-day. I'm sorry to miss 'em. They must be a nice bunch--to leave twowomen alone this way."

  He ate heartily, but with a nicety which betrayed better training thanis usual to men in his position. He remained silent and in deep thought,though his eyes were often on Alice's face.

  As he rose to go he said to Peggy: "Would you mind doing up a littlegrub for me? I don't know just when I'll strike another camp."

  "Why, of course! I'll be glad to. Do you have to go?"

  "Yes, I must pull out," he replied, and while she was preparing hislunch he rolled a blanket and tied it behind his saddle. At last here-entered the cabin and, again advancing to Alice's bedside, musinglyremarked: "I hate to leave you women here alone. It doesn't seem right.Are you sure your party will return to-night?"

  "Either to-night or to-morrow. Professor Ward intends to climb FremontPeak."

  "Then you won't see him for three days." His tone was that of one whocommunes with himself. "I reckon I'd better stay till to-morrow. I don'tlike the feeling of the air."

  She explained that Gage, one of the guides, would return in case theprofessor wished to remain in the heights.

  "Well, I'll hang around till toward night, anyhow."

  He went away for half an hour, and upon his return presented a cleanlyshaven face and a much less savage look and bearing. He hovered aboutthe door, apparently listening to Peggy's chatter, but having eyes onlyfor the wounded girl. He seized every slightest excuse to come in, andhis voice softened and his manner changed quite as markedly, and atlast, while Mrs. Adams was momentarily absent, he abruptly said:

  "You are afraid of me; I can see it in your eyes. I know why. You thinkyou know who I am."

  "Yes; I'm sure of it."

  "What makes you think so?"

  "I saw your picture in the railway station."

  He regarded her darkly. "Well, I trust you. You won't give me away. I'mnot so sure of her." He nodded his head toward the open door.

  "What would be the good of my betraying you?"

  "Two thousand dollars' reward is a big temptation."

  "Nonsense! If I told--it would be for other reasons. If I were to betrayyour hiding-place it would be because society demands the punishment ofcriminals."

  "I'm not a criminal. I never lifted a cent from any man. I didn't get adollar from the express company--but I tried--I want you to know,anyway," he continued, "that I wouldn't rob an individual--and Iwouldn't have tried this, only I was blind drunk and desperate. I neededcash, and needed it bad."

  "What did you need it for?" asked Alice, with a steady look.

  He hesitated, and a flush crept across his brown face. His eyes wavered."Well, you see, the old home was mortgaged--and mother was sick--"

  "Oh, bosh! Tell me the truth," she demanded. "The papers said you did itfor a girl. Why not be honest with me?"

  "I will," he responded, impulsively. "Yes, that's right. I did it for agirl--and afterward, when I was on the run, what did she do? Threw medown! Told everything she knew--the little coyote--and here I am huntedlike a wolf on account of it." His face settled into savage lines for amoment. But even as he sat thus another light came into his eyes. Hisgaze took account of Alice's lips and the delicate, rounded whiteness ofher neck and chin. Her like he had never met before. The girls he hadknown giggled; this one smiled. His sweetheart used slang and talked ofcattle like a herder, but this woman's voice, so sweet and flexible,made delightfully strange music to his ears.

  Peggy's return cut short his confidence, and while she was in the cabinhe sat in silence, his eyes always on the girl. He seized everyopportunity to speak to her, and each time his voice betrayed increasinglonging for her favor.

  Mrs. Adams, who had conceived a liking for him, ordered him about asfreely as though he were a hired guide, and he made himself useful onthe slightest hint.

  Alice, on her part, was profoundly interested in him, and whenever herfoot would permit her to think of anything else, she pitied him. In themadness of his need, his love, he had committed an act which made allthe world his enemy, and yet, as she studied his form and expression,her heart filled with regret. He was very attractive in the Western way,with nothing furtive or evasive about him.

  With a directness quite equal to his own she questioned him about hisreckless deed.

  "Why did you do it?" she exclaimed in despair of his problem.

  "I don't know. Hanged if I do, especially now. Since seeing you I thinkI was crazy--crazy as a loon. If I'd done it for you, now, it wouldn'thave been so wild. You're worth a man's life. I'd die for you."

  This outburst of passion, so fierce and wild, thrilled the girl; shegrew pale with comprehension of his mood. It meant that the sight of herlying there had replaced the old madness with a new one. She wasunprepared for this furious outflaming of primitive admiration.

  "You mustn't talk like that to me," she protested, as firmly as shecould.

  He sensed her alarm. "Don't you be scared," he said, gently. "I didn'tmean to jar you. I only meant that I didn't know such women as you werein the world. I'd trust you. You've got steady eyes. You'd stick by theman that played his whole soul for you, I can see that. I come of prettygood stock. I reckon that's why you mean so much to me. You get hold ofme in a way I can't explain."

  "Why don't you fly?" she asked him. "Every minute you spend hereincreases your danger. The men may return at any moment."

  "That's funny, too," he answered, and a look of singular, musingtenderness fell over his face. "I'd rather sit here with you and take mychances."

  "But you must not! You are imperiling your life for nothing."

  "You're mistaken there. I'm getting something every minute--somethingthat will stay with me all my life. After I leave you it doesn't matter.I came into the hills just naturally, the way the elk does. After thatgirl reported me, life didn't count. Seeing you has changed me. Itmatters a whole lot to me this minute, and when I leave you it's stormysunset for me, sure thing."

  Alice gazed upon him with steady eyes, but her bosom rose and fell withthe emotion which filled her heart. She debated calling for Mrs. Adams,but there was something in the droop of the outlaw's head, i
n the toneof his voice, which arrested her. However sudden and frenzied hisadmiration might seem to others, it was sincere and manly, of that shewas persuaded. Nevertheless, she was deeply perturbed.

  "I wish you would go," she entreated at last, huskily. "I don't want tosee you taken. You have made yourself a criminal and I ought not to findexcuses for you, but I do. You're so young. It doesn't seem as if youknew what you were doing. Why don't you ride away into the wild northcountry and begin a new life somewhere? Can't you escape to Canada?"

  He seized eagerly upon her suggestion. "Will you write to me if I do?"

  "No, I cannot promise that."

  "Why can't I play the ranger here and wait upon you till the menreturn?"

  "Because Professor Ward read that placard with me. He will know youinstantly. I wish you'd go. Gage may come at any moment now."

  Peggy came in with disturbed look. "It looks like rain," she announced;"the clouds are settling down all over the peaks."

  The outlaw sprang up and went to the door. "It looked bad when I gotup," he said, as he studied the sky. "I guess we're in for trouble. Itmay be snow."

  His fears were soon realized. Rain began to fall in a thin drizzle, andat four o'clock the first faint flakes of snow began to flash amid thegray veils of the water-drops. The women looked at each other in alarmas the cabin's interior darkened with the ominous shadow of the storm.

  "I don't like this a bit," said Peggy, after a while. "This is nomountain squall. I wish the men were here."

  "It can't be anything that will last," replied Alice. "It isn't time forthe winter snows."

  "I know," replied Peggy. "But it's snowing perfect feather beds now,and no wind. Lucky this forest-ranger is here. The men may get lost inthis storm."

  "Mercy! Don't speak of such a thing!" exclaimed Alice; but she knew,just the same, that Ward and his party were high in the peaks, far, farabove the cabin, and that the storm there would be proportionatelyfiercer. She listened with growing thankfulness to the outlaw's blowsupon the dry limbs of wood that he was chopping for the fire. He wasvery capable and would not desert them--of that she felt assured.

  As the man worked on, the women both came to keen realization of theserious view he took of the storm. He mounted his horse and with hisrope dragged great bundles of fagots from the thickets. As he came up,laden with one of his bundles of hard-won fuel, Mrs. Adams asked:

  "You don't think it will keep this up, do you?"

  "You never can tell what will happen in these mountains. It doesn'tgenerally snow much till later, but you can't bank on anything in thisrange."

  Alice called to him and he stepped inside. "What do you think we'dbetter do?" she asked.

  "There isn't a thing you can do, miss. It's just a case of stick it out.It may let up by sundown; but, as it is, your party can't get backto-night, and if you don't mind I'll camp down just outside the door andkeep the fire going."

  "You will be a comfort to us," she replied, "but I feel that--that youought to be going. Isn't it dangerous for you? I mean you will be shutin here."

  "If I'm shut in, others are shut out," he answered, with a grim smile."My job is to keep fire." With these words he returned to his work ofbreaking limbs from the dead firs.

  Alice said: "If it does turn out as this--this ranger says--if the stormkeeps up, you mustn't let him sleep out in the snow."

  "Of course not," said Peggy. "He can sleep inside. I trust himperfectly--and, besides, you have your revolver."

  Alice smiled a little, wondering how Peggy's trust would stand thestrain of a fuller knowledge concerning their guardian's stirringcareer.

  III

  In spite of her knowledge of the mountains and her natural intrepidityof character the wounded girl's heart sank as the snow and the nightclosed down over the tiny cabin in its covert of firs. To be on foot insuch gloom, in the heart of such a wilderness, was sufficientlyawe-inspiring, but to be helpless on a hard bed was to feel the utterinconsequence of humankind. "Suppose the storm blocks the trails so thatthe men cannot return for a week? What will we do for food?"

  Each time she heard the outlaw deliver his burden of wood her heartwarmed to him. He was now her comfort and very present stay. "If itshould happen that the trails become impassable he alone will standbetween us and death," she thought.

  The outlaw came in to say, abruptly, "If you weren't hurt and if Iweren't in such a hurry I'd rather enjoy this."

  He slashed his sombrero against his thigh as he spoke, and Mrs. Adamsanswered his remark without knowledge of its inner meaning.

  "You mustn't think of sleeping outdoors to-night--Mr.--?"

  "Smith. I belong to the big family, the Smiths," he promptly replied.

  "Why don't you take away that improvised table by the wall and make yourbed there?"

  "We'll need the table," he responded in a matter-of-fact tone. "I'lljust crawl under it. What's giving me most trouble is the question ofgrub. They didn't leave you any too much, did they?"

  "But you can kill game, can't you?" asked Peggy.

  "We're pretty high up for elk, and the blue grouse are scarce this year,but I reckon I can jump a deer or a ground-hog. We won't starve,anyway."

  Alice perceived in his voice a note of exultation. He was glad of hisreprieve, and the thought of being her protector, at least for thenight, filled him with joy. She read his mind easily and the romance ofthis relationship stirred her own heart. The dramatic possibilities ofthe situation appealed to her. At any moment the men might return andforce her into the role of defender. On the other hand, they might beconfined for days together in this little cabin, and in this enforcedintimacy Peggy was sure to discover his secret and his adoration.

  The little hovel was filled with the golden light of the blazing fagots,and through the open door Alice could see the feathery crystals fallingin a wondrous, glittering curtain across the night. The stream roared insubdued voice as though oppressed by the snows, and the shadow of thefugitive as he moved about the fire had a savage, primal significancewhich awed the girl into silence.

  He was very deft in camp work, and cooked their supper for them almostas well as they could have done it themselves, but he refused to sit atthe table with Peggy. "I'll just naturally stick to my slicker, if youdon't mind. I'm wet and my hands are too grimy to eat with a lady."

  Alice continued to talk to him, always with an under-current of meaningwhich he easily read and adroitly answered. This care, this doublemeaning, drew them ever closer in spirit, and the girl took anunaccountable pleasure in it.

  After supper he took his seat in the open doorway, and the girl in thebunk looked upon him with softened glance. She had no fear of him now;on the contrary, she mentally leaned upon him. Without him the nightwould be a terror, the dawn an uncertainty. The brave self-reliance ofhis spirit appeared in stronger light as she considered that for weekshe had been camping alone, and that but for this accident to her hewould be facing this rayless wintry night in solitude.

  He began again to question her. "I wish you'd tell me more aboutyourself," he said, his dark eyes fixed upon her. "I can't understandwhy any girl like you should come up here with a bunch of rock-sharps.Are you tied up to the professor?"

  If Peggy expected her patient to resent this question she must have beensurprised, for Alice merely smiled as if at the impertinence of a child.

  Mrs. Adams replied: "I can tell you that she is--and a very fortunategirl her friends think her."

  He turned to her with unmoved face. "You mean he's got money, I reckon."

  "Money and brains and good looks and a fine position."

  "That's about the whole works, ain't it--leastwise he will have it allwhen he gets you. A man like that doesn't deserve what he's got. He's achump. Do you suppose I'd go off and leave you alone in a hole likethis with a smashed leg? I'd never bring you into such a country, in thefirst place. And I certainly wouldn't leave you just to study a shack ofice on the mountainside."

  "I urged him to go, and, besides, Pe
ggy is mistaken; we're not engaged."

  "But he left you! That's what sticks in my crop. He can't be just rightin his head. If I had any chance of owning you I'd never let you out ofmy sight. I wouldn't take a chance. I don't understand these cityfellows. I reckon their blood is thinned with ice-water. If I had youI'd be scared every minute for fear of losing you. I'd be as dangerousto touch as a silver-tip. If I had any place to take you I'd steal youright now."

  This was more than banter. Even Mrs. Adams perceived the passionquivering beneath his easy, low-toned speech. He was in truth playingwith the conception of seizing this half-smiling, half-musing girl whosehelpless body was at once a lure and an inspiration. It was perfectlyevident that he was profoundly stirred.

  And so was Alice. "What," she dared ask herself, "will become of this?"

  IV

  To the outlaw in the Rocky Mountain cabin in that stormy night it was inevery respect the climax of his life. As he sat in the doorway, lookingat the fire and over into the storm beyond, he realized that he wasshaken by a wild, crude lyric of passion. Here was, to him, the pureemotion of love. All the beautiful things he had ever heard or read ofgirlhood, of women, of marriage, rose in his mind to make this night analmost intolerable blending of joy and sorrow, hope and despair.

  To stay time in its flight, to make this hour his own, to cheat the law,to hold the future at bay--these were the avid desires, the vagueresolutions, of his brain. So sure as the day came this happiness wouldend. To-morrow he must resume his flight, resigning his new-found jewelinto the hands of another. To this thought he returned again and again,each time with new adoration for the girl and added fury and hateagainst his relentless pursuers and himself. He did not spare himself!"Gad! what a fool I've been--and yet, if I had been less a fool I wouldnot be here and I would never have met her." He ended with a glancetoward Alice.

  Then he arose, closed the door of the cabin, and stood without besidethe fire, so that the women might prepare for bed. His first thought ofsuicide came to him. Why not wait with his love as long aspossible--stay till the law's hand was in the air above his head,uplifted to strike, and then, in this last moment, die with this latest,most glorious passion as climax to his career? To flee meant endlessfear, torment. To be captured meant defeat, utter and final dismay.

  A knock upon the door startled him, and Peggy's voice cut short hismeditation. "You can come in now, Mr. Smith," she said.

  The broad crystals were still falling thickly and the fire was hissingand spluttering around a huge root which he had rolled upon it. In itslight the cabin stood hardly higher than a kennel, and yet it housed thewoman whose glance had transformed his world into something mystical. Aman of commonplace ancestry would have felt only an animal delight inshelter and warmth, but this youth was stirred to a spiritualexaltation. The girl's bosom, the rounded beauty of her neck, appealedto him, but so also did the steady candor of her gaze and the sweetcourage of her lips. Her helplessness roused his protective instinct,and her words, the sound of her voice, so precise, so alien-sweet,filled him with bitter sadness, and he re-entered the house in suchspirit of self-abasement as he had never known before.

  He lay down upon the hard floor in silence, his audacity gone, hisreckless courage deep-sunk in gloomy foreboding.

  Alice, on her part, could not free her mind from the burden of hiscrime. He was so young and so handsome, to be hunted like a noxiousbeast! She had at the moment more concern of him than of Ward, and inthis lay a certain disloyalty. She sighed deeply as she thought of theoutlaw resuming his flight next day. Would it not be better for him tosacrifice himself to the vengeance of the state at once and so end it?What right had she to shield him from the law's demand? "He is acriminal, after all. He must pay for his rash act."

  She could not sleep, and when he rose to feed the fire she softly asked,"Does it still storm?"

  "No," he answered in a tone that voiced disappointment; "the sky isclear."

  "Isn't that cheering!" she exclaimed, still in the same hushed voice.

  "For you," he replied. "For me it's another story." He felt the desirefor a secret consultation which moved her, and on his way back to hiscorner he halted and fixed his eyes upon her in hungry admiration of herfire-lit face. Then he spoke: "I should have pulled out before the stormquit. They can trail me now. But no matter; I've known you."

  She still kept to ambiguous speech. "Wouldn't it be better to give upand take your--misfortune, and begin again? Professor Ward and I will doall we can to help you."

  "That's mighty white of you," he responded, slowly. "But I can't standthe thought of confinement. I've been free as an Injun all my life.Every way of the wind has been open to me. No; just as long as I canfind a wild spot I must keep moving. If it comes to 'hands up!' I takethe short cut." He tapped his revolver as he spoke.

  "You mustn't do that," she entreated. "Promise me you won't think ofthat!"

  He made a stride toward her, but a movement of her companion checkedhim.

  "Is it morning?" Peggy sleepily asked.

  "Not quite," answered the outlaw, "but it's time for me to be moving.I'd like to hear from you some time," he said to Alice, and his voicebetrayed his sadness and tenderness. "Where could I reach you?"

  She gave her address with a curious sense of wrong-doing.

  He listened intently. "I'll remember that," he said, "when I'veforgotten everything else. And now--" He reached his hand to her and shetook it.

  "Poor boy! I'm sorry for you!" she whispered.

  Her words melted his heart. Dropping on his knees beside her bed, hepressed her fingers to his lips, then rose. "I'll see youagain--somewhere--some time," he said, brokenly. "Good-by."

  No sooner had the door closed behind the outlaw than Peggy rose in herplace beside Alice and voiced her mystification. "Now what is themeaning of all that?"

  "Don't ask me," replied the girl. "I don't feel like talking, and myfoot is aching dreadfully. Can't you get up and bathe it? I hate to askyou--but it hurts me so."

  Peggy sprang up and began to dress, puffing and whistling withdesperation. As soon as she was dressed she ran to the door and openedit. All was still a world of green and white. "The fire is almost out,"she reported, "and I can see Mr. Smith's horse's tracks."

  V

  It was about ten o'clock when a couple of horsemen suddenly rounded thepoint of the forest and rode into the clearing. One of them, a slender,elderly man with gray, curly beard and a skin like red leather,dismounted and came slowly to the door, and though his eyes expressedsurprise at meeting women in such a place, he was very polite.

  "Mornin', ma'am," he said, with suave inflection.

  "Good morning," Peggy replied.

  "Fine snowy mornin'."

  "It is so." She was a little irritated by the fixed stare of his round,gray eyes.

  He became more direct. "May I ask who you are and how you happen to behere, ma'am?"

  "You may. I'm Mrs. Adams. I came up here with my husband, ProfessorAdams."

  "Where is he?"

  "He has gone up the trail toward Fremont. He is a botanist."

  "Is that his horse's tracks?"

  Alice called sharply, "Peggy!"

  Mrs. Adams turned abruptly and went in.

  The stranger turned a slow gaze upon his companion. "Well, this beatsme. 'Pears like we're on the wrong trail, Bob. I reckon we've justnaturally overhauled a bunch of tourists."

  "Better go in and see what's inside," suggested the other man, slippingfrom his horse.

  "All right. You stay where you are."

  As he stepped to the door and rapped, Peggy opened it, but Alice took upthe inquiry.

  "What do you want?" she asked, imperiously.

  The man, after looking keenly about, quietly replied: "I'm wonderin' howyou women come to be here alone, but first of all I want to know whomade them tracks outside the door?"

  Alice ignored the latter part of his question and set about satisfyinghis wonder. "We came up here with a geological sur
vey, but my horse fellon my foot and I couldn't ride, so the men had to leave me behind--"

  "Alone?" sharply interrogated the man.

  "No; one man stayed."

  "What was his name?"

  "I don't know. We called him Smith."

  "Was he the man that rode away this morning?"

  "What does that matter to you?" asked the girl. "Why are you soinquisitive?"

  He maintained his calm tone of mild authority. "I'm the sheriff of UintaCounty, ma'am, and I'm looking for a man who's been hiding out in thisbasin. I was trailin' him close when the snow came on yesterday, and Ididn't know but what these tracks was his."

  Peggy turned toward Alice with an involuntary expression ofenlightenment, and the sheriff read it quickly. Slipping between the twowomen, he said:

  "Jest a minute, miss. What sort of a looking man was this Smith?"

  Alice took up the story. "He was rather small and dark--wasn't he,Peggy?"

  Peggy considered. "I didn't notice him particularly. Yes, I think hewas."

  The man outside called: "Hurry up, Cap. It's beginning to snow again."

  The sheriff withdrew toward the door. "You're both lying," he remarkedwithout heat, "but it don't matter. We'll mighty soon overhaul this manon the horse--whoever he is. If you've been harboring Hall McCord we'llhave to take you, too." With that threat as a farewell he mounted hishorse and rode away.

  Peggy turned to Alice. "Did you know that young fellow was an outlaw?"

  "Yes; I saw his picture and description on a placard in the railwaystation. I recognized him at once."

  "Why didn't you tell me?"

  "Well, I liked his looks, and, besides, I wanted to find out if he werereally bad or only unfortunate."

  "What has he done?"

  "They say he held up a train!"

  "Merciful Heavens! a train-robber! What's his real name?"

  "The name on the placard was Hall McCord."

  "And to think he was in the same room with us last night, and you werechumming with him! I can't understand you. Are you sure he is therobber?"

  "Yes. He confessed to having tried to rob the express car."

  "He seemed such a nice fellow. How did he come to do it?"

  Alice concluded not to honor the other girl by bringing her into thediscussion. "Oh, it is hard to say. Need of money, I suppose. Poor boy,I pity him."

  "They'll get him, sure. They can follow his tracks as easy as anything.I don't suppose I ought to say it, but I hope he'll get away. Don'tyou?"

  "Yes, I do!" was Alice's fervent response. "But see! it's snowing again.It may cover his trail."

  Peggy went to the door and gazed long and keenly at the peaks. When sheturned her face was solemn. "Allie, this is getting pretty serious forus. If the men don't come to-day they may get snowed up entirely."

  Alice stifled a wail. "Oh, if I were only able to walk I wouldn't mind.I could help gather fuel and keep the fire going."

  "There's plenty of wood for another day, but I'm worried about the men.Suppose they are up on that glacier?"

  "I'm not worried about them, but I know they are worrying about us.They'll surely start back this morning; but they may not be able toreach us till night."

  The light of the morning had turned gray and feeble. The air was stilland the forest soundless, save now and then when a snow-laden branchcreaked with its burden.

  There was something majestic as well as menacing in this all-pervadingsolemn hush.

  Peggy went about her duties as cheerfully as she could, but with a widerknowledge of mountaineering than Alice had. She was at heart quiteterrified. "We're going to miss our nice outlaw," she remarked. "He wasso effective as a purveyor of wood." Then she went to the door andlooked out. "That sheriff will never keep his trail," she said.

  "What's that?" suddenly asked Alice.

  Both listened. "I hear it!" whispered Peggy. "It's a horse--there! Someone spoke."

  "It's Freeman!" Alice joyously called out. "Coohoo!"

  No one replied, and Peggy, rushing to the door, met the young outlaw,who appeared on the threshold with stern, set face.

  "Who's been here since I left? Your party?"

  Peggy recoiled in surprise and alarm, and Alice cried out, "Why did youcome back?"

  "Two men on horseback have been here since I left. Who were they?" Hisvoice was full of haste.

  "One of them said--he was the--the sheriff," Alice replied, faintly.

  He smiled then, a kind of terrifying humor in his eyes. "Well, thechances are he knew. They took my trail, of course, and left in a hurry.Expected to overhaul me on the summit. They've got their work cut outfor 'em."

  "How did they miss you?" the girl asked, huskily.

  "Well, you see, when I got up where I could view the sky I was dead surewe were in for a whooping big snow-storm, and I just couldn't leave yougirls up here all alone, so I struck right down the canyon in the bed ofthe creek--the short cut. I don't like to back-trail, anyway; it's a badhabit to get into. I like to leave as blind a trail as I can." His facelighted up, grew boyish again. "They're sure up against a coldproposition about now. They'll lose my track among the rocks, butthey'll figure I've hustled right on over into Pine Creek, and if theydon't freeze to death in the pass they'll come out at Glover'shay-meadow to-morrow night. How's the wood-pile holding out?"

  "Please go!" cried Alice. "Take your chance now and hurry away."

  "I'm not used to leaving women in such a fix. The moment I saw that theblizzard was beginning all over again I turned back."

  "You haven't had any breakfast?" said Peggy.

  "Nothing to speak of," he replied, dryly. "I wasn't thinking ofbreakfast when I pulled out."

  "I'll get you some."

  Alice could not throw off the burden of his danger. "What will you dowhen my people return?"

  "I don't know--trust to luck."

  "You are very foolish. They are certain to come to-day."

  "They won't know who I am if you women don't give me away."

  "I'm sure Freeman--Professor Ward--will know you, for he also saw theplacard."

  "That's no sign. Suppose he does--maybe he won't think it is his job tointerfere. Anyway"--here his voice became decisive--"I won't leave youin such a fix as this." His eyes spoke to her of that which his tonguecould not utter. "I wanted an excuse to come back, anyway," heconcluded. "No matter what comes now, my job is here to protect you."

  She did not rebuke him, and Peggy--though she wondered at his tone--wastoo grateful for his presence even to question Alice's motive inpermitting such remarks.

  As for Alice, she felt herself more and more involved in the tangledskein of his mysterious life. His sudden and reckless abandonment of theold love which had ruined him, and the new and equally irrational regardwhich he now professed for her, filled her with a delicious marveling.

  He appealed to a woman's imagination. He had the spice of the unknown.In her relationship with Ward there was no danger, no mystery--hiscourtship narrowly escaped being commonplace. She had accepted hisattentions and expected to marry him, and yet the thought of the unionproduced, at its warmest, merely a glow of comfort, a sense of security,whereas the hint of being loved and protected by this Rob Roy of thehills, this reckless Rough Rider of the wilderness, was instinct withromance. Of course his devotion was a crazy folly, and yet, lying therein her rough bunk, with an impenetrable wall of snow shutting out therest of the world, it was hard not to feel that this man and his futurehad become an inescapable part of her life--a part which grew in dangerand in charm from hour to hour.

  Full two miles above the level of her own home, surrounded by peaksunscalably wild and lonely, deserted by those who should care for her,was it strange that she should return this man's adoring gaze withsomething of the primal woman's gratitude and submission?

  The noon darkened into dusk as they talked, slowly, with long pauses,and one by one the stirring facts of the rover's life came out. From hisboyhood he had always done the reckless thin
g. He had known no restrainttill, as a member of the Rough Riders, he yielded a partial obedience tohis commanders. When the excitement of the campaigns was over he haddeserted and gone back to the round-up wagon and the camp-fire.

  In the midst of his confidences he maintained a reserve about his familywhich showed more self-mastery than anything else about him. That he wasthe black sheep of an honorable flock became increasingly evident. Hehad been the kind of lad who finds in the West a fine field fordaredevil adventure. And yet there were unstirred deeps in the man. Hewas curious about a small book which Alice kept upon her bed, and whichshe read from time to time with serene meditation on her face.

  "What is that?" he asked.

  "My Bible."

  "Can I see it?"

  "Certainly."

  He took it carefully and read the title on the back, then turned a fewof the leaves. "I'm not much on reading," he said, "but I've got asister that sends me tracts, and the like." He returned to the fly-leaf."Is this your name?"

  "Yes."

  "'Alice Mansfield,'" he read; "beautiful name! 'New York City'! That'spretty near the other side of the world to me." He studied the addresswith intent look. "I'd like to buy this book. How much will you take forit?"

  "I'll trade it for your weapon," she replied.

  He looked at her narrowly. "You mean something by that. I reckon Ifollow you. No, I can't do that--not now. If I get into business overthe line I'll disarm, but in this country a fellow needs to beprotected. I want this book!"

  "For the fly-leaf?"

  He smiled in return. "You've hit it."

  She hesitated. "I'll give you the book if you'll promise to read it."

  He clapped the covers together and put the volume in his pocket. "It'smine! I'll read every word of it, if it takes an age, and here's my handon it."

  She gave him her hand, and in this clasp something came to her from hisclutching fingers which sobered her. She drew her hand away hastily andsaid: "If you read that book--and think about it--it will change yourwhole world."

  He, too, lost his brightness. "Well, I'm not so anxious to keep up thiskind of life. But if anybody changes me it will be you."

  "Hush!" she warned with lifted finger.

  He fell back, and after a little silence went out to wait upon the fire.

  "It seems to me," said Peggy, reprovingly, "that you're too graciouswith this mountaineer; he's getting presumptuous."

  "He doesn't mean to be. It's his unsophisticated way. Anyhow, we can'tafford to be captious to our host."

  "That's true," admitted Peggy.

  The night shut down with the snow still falling, but with a growingchill in the air.

  "The flakes are finer," the outlaw announced, as he came in a littlelater. "That is a good sign. It is growing colder and the wind ischanging. It will pinch hard before sun-up, and the worst of it, there'sno way to warm the cabin. We can't have the door open to-night. I'mworried about you," he said to Alice. "If only those chumps had left aman-size ax!"

  The two women understood that this night was to bring them into closerintimacy with the stranger than before. He could not remain outdoors,and though they now knew something of his desperate character, they hadno fear of him. He had shown his chivalry. No one could have been moreconsiderate of them, for he absented himself at Peggy's requestinstantly and without suggestion of jocularity, and when he came in andfound them both in bed he said:

  "I reckon I'll not make down to-night--you'll need all your blanketsbefore morning"; and thereupon, without weighing their protests,proceeded to spread the extra cover over them.

  Alice looked up at him in the dim light of the candle and softly asked:"What will you do? You will suffer with cold!"

  "Don't worry about me; I'm an old campaigner. I still have a blanket towrap around my shoulders. I'll snooze in a corner. If you hear me movingaround don't be worried; I'm hired to keep the fire going even if itdoesn't do us much good inside."

  The chill deepened. The wind began to roar, and great masses of snow,dislodged from the tall trees above the cabin, fell upon its roof withsounds like those of soft, slow footfalls. Strange noises of creakingand groaning and rasping penetrated to Alice's ears, and she coweredhalf in fear, half in joy of her shelter and her male protector. Menwere fine animals for the wild.

  She fell asleep at last, seeing her knight's dim form propped againstthe wall, wrapped in a blanket Indian-wise, his head bowed over the bookshe had given him, a candle smoking in his hand.

  She woke when he rose to feed the fire, and the current of cold airwhich swept in caused her to cover her mouth with the blanket. He turnedtoward her.

  "It's all over for sure, this time," he said. "It's cold and goin' to becolder. How are you standing it? If your feet are cold I can heat astone. How is the hurt foot?" He drew near and looked down upon heranxiously.

  "Very much easier, thank you."

  "I'm mighty glad of that. I wish I could take the pain all on myself."

  "You have troubles of your own," she answered, as lightly as she could.

  "That's true, too," he agreed in the same tone. "So many that a littleone more or less wouldn't count."

  "Do you call my wound little?"

  "I meant the foot was little--"

  She checked him.

  "I didn't mean to make light of it. It sure is no joke." He added, "I'vemade a start on the book."

  "How do you like it?"

  "I don't know yet," he answered, and went back to his corner.

  She snuggled under her warm quilts again, remorseful, yet not daring tosuggest a return of the blanket he had lent. When she woke again he wason his feet, swinging his arms silently. His candle had gone out, but afaint light was showing in the room.

  "Is it morning?" she asked.

  "Just about," he replied, stretching like a cat.

  The dawn came gloriously. The sun in far-splashing splendor slanted frompeak to peak, painting purple shadows on the snow and warming the bolesof the tall trees till they shone like fretted gold. The jays cried outas if in exultation of the ending of the tempest, and the small streamsang over its icy pebbles with resolute cheer. It was a land to fill apoet with awe and ecstatic praise--a radiant, imperial, and mercilesslandscape. Trackless, almost soundless, the mountain world lay waitingfor the alchemy of the sun.

  VI

  The morning was well advanced when a far, faint halloo broke through thesilence of the valley. The ranger stood like a statue, while Peggy criedout:

  "It's one of our men!"

  Alice turned to the outlaw with anxious face. "If it's the sheriff stayin here with me. Let me plead for you. I want him to know what you'vedone for us."

  The look that came upon his face turned her cold with fear. "If it isthe sheriff--" He did not finish, but she understood.

  The halloo sounded nearer and the outlaw's face lightened. "It's one ofyour party. He is coming up from below."

  Impatiently they waited for the new-comer to appear, and though heseemed to draw nearer at every shout, his progress was very slow. Atlast the man appeared on the opposite bank of the stream. He was coveredwith snow and stumbling along like a man half dead with hunger andfatigue.

  "Why, it's Gage!" exclaimed Peggy.

  It was indeed the old hunter, and as he drew near his gaunt andbloodless face was like that of a starved and hunted animal. His firstword was an anxious inquiry, "How are ye?"

  "All well," Peggy answered.

  "And the crippled girl?"

  "Doing nicely. Thanks to Mr. Smith here, we did not freeze. Are youhungry?"

  The guide looked upon the outlaw with glazed, protruding eyes. "Hungry?I'm done. I've been wallerin' in the snow all night and I'm just aboutall in."

  "Where are the others?" called Alice from her bed.

  Gage staggered to the door. "They're up at timber-line. I left them daybefore yesterday. I tried to get here, but I lost my bearin's and got onthe wrong side o' the creek. 'Pears like I kept on the wrong side o' thehogb
ack. Then my horse gave out, and that set me afoot. I was plumscared to death about you folks. I sure was."

  Peggy put some food before him and ordered him into silence. "Talklater," she said.

  The outlaw turned to Alice. "That explains it. Your Professor Wardtrusted to this man to take care of you and stayed in camp. You can'tblame him."

  Gage seemed to have suddenly become old, almost childish. "I never waslost before," he muttered, sadly. "I reckon something must have wentwrong in my head. 'Pears like I'm gettin' old and foolish."

  Alice exchanged glances with the outlaw. It was plain that he was in nodanger from this dazed and weakened old man who could think of nothingbut the loss of his sense of direction.

  As the day advanced the sun burned clear. At noon it was warm enough toleave the door open, and Alice, catching glimpses of the flaming worldof silver and purple and gold, was filled with a desire to quit her darkcorner.

  "I'm going to get up!" she exclaimed. "I won't lie here any longer."

  "Don't try it!" protested Peggy.

  "I'm going to do it!" she insisted. "I can hobble to the door if youhelp me."

  "I'll carry you," said the outlaw. "Wrap her up and I'll get her aseat."

  And so, while Mrs. Adams wrapped her patient in a blanket, the outlawdragged one of the rough, ax-hewn benches to the door and covered itwith blankets. He put a stone to heat and then re-entered just as Alice,supported by Peggy, was setting foot to the floor. Swiftly,unhesitating, and very tenderly he put his arms about her and liftedher to the bench in the doorway before the fire.

  It was so sweet to feel that wondrous body in his arms. His daring to doit surprised her, but her own silent acquiescence, and the shiver ofpleasure which came with the embarrassment of it, confused and troubledher.

  "That's better," he said as he dropped to the ground and drew theblankets close about her feet. "I'll have a hot stone for you in aminute."

  He went about these ministrations with an inward ecstasy which shone inhis eyes and trembled in his voice. But as she furtively studied hisface and observed the tremor of his hands in tender ministration shelost all fear of him.

  After three days in her dark corner of the hut the sunshine waswondrously inspiring to the girl, although the landscape on which shegazed was white and wild as December. It was incredible that only a fewhours lay between the flower-strewn valley of her accident and thissilent and desolate, yet beautiful, wilderness of snow. And so, as shelooked into the eyes of the outlaw, it seemed as though she had knownhim from spring to winter, and her wish to help him grew with every hourof their acquaintanceship.

  She planned his defense before Ward and Adams. "When they know how kindand helpful he has been they can but condone his one rash deed," sheargued in conclusion.

  He was sitting at her feet, careless of time, the law, content with hernearness, and mindful only of her comfort, when a distant rifle-shotbrought him to his feet with the swiftness of the startled stag.

  "That's your expedition," he said, "or some one who needs help."

  Again the shots rang out, _one_, _two_, _three_--_one_, _two_, _three_."It's a signal! It's your party!"

  Peggy uttered a cry of joy and rushed outside, but Alice turned anunquiet gaze on the outlaw. "You'd better fly!"

  "What is the use?" he answered, bitterly. "The snow is so deep there isno show to cross the range, and my horse is weak and hungry."

  Gage appeared at the door. "Lemme take your gun, stranger; I want toanswer the signal."

  "Where's your own?"

  "I left it on my horse," the old man answered, sheepishly.

  The young fellow looked at Alice with a keen glitter in his eyes. "I'llmake answer myself," he said; "I'm very particular about my barkers."

  Alice, as she heard his revolver's answering word leap into the silentair and bound and rebound along the cliffs, was filled with a suddenfear that the sheriff might be guided back by the sound--and this indeedthe fugitive himself remarked as he came back to his seat beside her.

  "If he's anywhere on this side of the divide he'll sure come back. ButI've done my best. The Lord God Almighty has dropped the snow down hereand shut me in with you, and I'm not complaining."

  There was no answer to be made to this fatalism of utterance, and noneto the worship of his eyes.

  "Lift me up!" commanded Alice; "I want to look out and see if I can seeanybody."

  The outlaw took her in his arms, supporting her in the threshold inorder that she might see over the vast sea of white. But no human beingwas to be seen.

  "Take me back--inside," Alice said to the man who had her in his arms."I feel cold here."

  Once again, and with a feeling that it was, perhaps, for the last time,he carried her back to her bench and re-enveloped her in her blankets.

  "Stay here with me now," she whispered to him, as she looked up into hisface.

  And the outlaw, filled with gladness and pride, threw himself on thefloor beside her.

  VII

  The signal pistol-shots came nearer and nearer, but very slowly; and asthe outlaw sat beside Alice's couch he took her Bible from his pocketand said:

  "I made a stab at reading this last night."

  She smiled. "I saw you. How did you like it?"

  "I didn't exactly get aboard someway."

  "What was the trouble?"

  "I guess it was because I kept thinking of you--and my own place in thegame. Three days ago I didn't care what became of me, but now I want achance. I don't see any chance coming my way, but if I had it I'd makeuse of it." He looked at her a moment in silence, then with suddenintensity broke forth. "Do you know what you mean to me? When I look atyour face and eyes I'm crazy hungry for you."

  She shrank from him and called to Mrs. Adams.

  He went on. "Oh, you needn't be afraid. I just wanted to say it, that'sall. If there was only some other way to straighten myself--but I can'tgo to jail. I can't stand up to be clipped like a poodle-dog, then puton striped clothing and walk lock-step--I can't do it! They'll put me infor ten years. I'd be old when I got out." He shuddered. "No, I won't dothat! I'd rather die here in the hills."

  She grew white in sympathy. "It is a frightful price to pay for oneinsane act, and yet--crime should be punished."

  "I'm getting my punishment now," he replied, with darkly broodingglance. "There's a good old man and two women, my sisters, waitin' forme down the slope. If I could reach home I'd try to live straight, butit's a long and dangerous trail between here and there."

  Peggy now ran into the cabin. "It's the expedition," she announced. "Ican see Freeman."

  "I reckon this is where I get off," said the outlaw in a tone of mingledrelief and dismay.

  "No, no!" Alice entreated. "Stay till Freeman comes. He will help you.Let me explain to him. I know he will not betray you."

  He looked at her again with that intent, longing worship in his eyes,and answered, "I accept the chance for the sake of one more hour withyou."

  The outlaw stepped to the door, and he saw a man at the head of histrain mid-leg deep in snow, leading his horse, breaking the way for hisfollowers, who were all on foot, crawling, stumbling, and twisting amongthe down-timber, unmindful of the old trail.

  At sight of that big and resolute leader, with flowing black beard andruddy face, the outlaw was filled with jealous sadness. To find Ward aman of superb physical prowess, the kind that measures peaks for the funof it, was disturbing, and without defining his feeling he was plungedinto melancholy musing. And when later Ward entered, and, stooping overthe couch, kissed Alice, the end of his idyl seemed to him announced.

  In the bustle of the moment, in the interchange of anxious, hurriedinquiries, the outlaw stood aside in the corner, unnoticed, till Alicecaught Ward's arm and said:

  "Freeman, this is Mr. Smith, to whom we owe a great deal. He has takenthe utmost care of us. We would have frozen but for him."

  Ward shook hands with the outlaw, but wonderingly asked of Alice, "Butwhere was Gage?"


  The outlaw answered, "Gage got lost and only turned up a couple of hoursago."

  Ward turned to Alice in horror. "Good Lord! And you were herealone--crippled--in this storm?"

  "No--that's what I'm telling you. Mr. Smith came and took care of us. Hebrought our wood, he cooked for us, he kept our fire going. He gave uphis bed, even his blankets, for us. You should be very generous to him."

  Ward again reached a hearty hand. "I'm tremendously obliged to you."

  The outlaw quailed under all this praise. "There was mighty little todo," he answered. "I only shared my fire with them."

  Ward studied him closer. "Haven't we met before?"

  "No, I reckon not."

  "I'm quite sure I've seen you somewhere. What are you doing up in here?"

  Alice interposed. "What are we going to do?"

  Ward turned to the outlaw. "What would you advise? I've only had oneidea, and that was to reach this cabin. Now what would you do?"

  The outlaw was ready. "I would send a part of the men with the horsesdown the valley to grass and I'd wait here till Miss Mansfield is ableto ride."

  "Will this snow go off?"

  "That's my notion."

  "It's certain we can't camp here--the horses must have grass."

  "I'll be able to ride in a day or two," Alice said, bravely.

  "We could frame up a portable bed and carry you," suggested the outlaw;"but it can't be done to-night, so you'd better send your outfit down tothe marsh to camp. The horses are worn out and so are the men."

  "Will you guide them to grass and help them find shelter?"

  The outlaw hesitated for an instant, and Alice interposed: "No, no! letGage do that. I want Mr. Smith to remain here."

  Ward perceived in her entreaty something of anxiety and fear, and afterthe men and horses had started down the slope he turned to the outlawand said: "I'm mighty grateful to you, Mr. Smith. It must have surprisedyou to find these women here."

  The outlaw dryly replied, "It did!"

  Alice added: "It was in the middle of the night, too; but Mr. Smith wasvery nice about it. He slept outdoors without a word of complaint."

  Ward had figured the situation to conclusion: "Smith is a poacher," andthough he had a savage dislike of these illicit game-slaughterers, hecould not but be glad of the presence of this particular outlaw, andresolved to overlook his trade in gratitude for his cabin and service.

  The outlaw helped Adams and Ward to clear away the snow for a tent, andAlice, seeing the three men thus amicably joined in her defense, couldnot find it in her heart to condemn one of them as a criminal. Here inthe white isolation of the peaks the question of crime and itspunishment became personal. To have this man's fate in her hand was likegrasping the executioner's sword for herself.

  "If women had to punish criminals themselves, with their own hand," sheasked, "how many of them would do it?"

  Peggy came in and whispered to her: "No one else seems to haverecognized him. He may get away safely. I hope he will. Shall we tellthe men who he is?"

  "Yes, we shall have to do that soon, but I'm afraid they won't take thesentimental view of him that we do. I tremble to think of what they willdo when they know."

  Ward explained to Adams: "Our friend Smith here is a poacher--but as ouraccount stands I don't feel it my duty to report him, do you?"

  "No; Peggy tells me he has acted like a gentleman all through."

  In this spirit they made themselves comfortable for the night.

  The sun set gloriously, but the air bit ever sharper, and while Peggywent about her cooking, assisted by her husband and the outlaw, Alicepulled Ward down to her bedside and hurriedly began:

  "You remember that placard we read in the station--the one about thetrain-robber?"

  "Yes!"

  "Well, this is the man--our Mr. Smith."

  Ward looked at her a moment with reflective eyes, then exclaimed:"You're right! I thought I'd seen him somewhere."

  "And the sheriff is after him. He was here yesterday morning."

  "Here?"

  "Yes. You see, Mr. Smith stayed with us till he thought the storm wasover, then rode away, intending to cross the divide, but when the snowbegan again he turned back. He said he couldn't leave us alone. He leftus just before dawn, and four or five hours afterward the sheriff came.Of course he saw the poor fellow's trail and instantly set off afterhim."

  "But why didn't they meet?"

  "Because Mr. Smith came back a different way and then the blizzard cameon and covered up his tracks. He thinks the sheriff has gone on over thedivide. You must help him, Freeman. Help him to get away and find someway to give him a start. Nobody could have been more considerate, and Ican't see him taken by these cold-blooded men who want that two thousanddollars' reward. He really could have escaped, only for us. He came backto protect us."

  Ward pondered. "The problem is not so easy of solution. A train robberyis a pretty serious matter. I'm very grateful to him, but to connive athis escape is itself a punishable act. Why did you tell me? I could havepassed it over--"

  "Because I'm afraid the sheriff may come back at any moment."

  Ward's brow was troubled. "I could ignore his deed and pretend not toknow who he is, but definitely to assist a bandit to escape is a veryserious matter."

  "I know it is; but remember he gave up his chance to cross the divide inorder to keep us from suffering."

  "I wish you hadn't told me," he repeated, almost in irritation. "If thesheriff only keeps on over the range Smith can take care of himself."

  As the outlaw re-entered the cabin Alice acknowledged in him somethingworth a woman to love. In the older man was power, security, moral,mental, and physical health, the qualities her reason demanded in ahusband; but in the other was grace and charm, something wildlyadmirable. He allured as the warrior, intrepid and graceful, alluredthe maiden, as the forest calls the householder. Something primordialand splendid and very sweet was in her feeling toward him. There couldbe no peaceful wedlock there, no security of home, no comfort, only theexquisite thrill of perilous union, the madness of a few shortweeks--perhaps only a few swift days of self-surrender, and then,surely, disaster and despair. To yield to him was impossible, and yetthe thought of it was tantalizingly sweet.

  When she looked toward Ward she perceived herself sitting serenely inmatronly grace behind a shining coffee-urn in a well-ordered, highlycivilized breakfast-room, facing a most considerate husband whonevertheless was able to read the morning paper in her presence. Whenshe thought of life with the outlaw all was dark, stormy, confused, andyet the way was lit by his adoring eyes. A magical splendor lay in theimpulse. His love, sudden as it seemed, was real--she was certain ofthat. She felt the burning power, the conjury of its flame, and it madeher future with Ward, at the moment, seem dull and drab.

  "Why, why could not such a man and such a passion come with the orderlyand the ethical?" she asked herself.

  At the best he was fitted only for the mine or the ranch, and thethought of life in a lonely valley, even with his love to lighten it,made her shudder. On one side she was a very practical and far-seeingwoman. The instant she brought her reason to bear on the problem sheperceived that any further acquaintance with this man was dangerous.They must part here at this moment, and yet she could not let him gowithout in some way making him feel her wish to help him.

  VIII

  Ward and the outlaw were discussing plans for getting out of the basinwhen Adams came in to say, "A couple of other weary wanderers areturning up."

  "The sheriff!" instantly exclaimed Alice, her face whitening in swiftdismay.

  In that moment the forester was transformed. With a weapon in his handhe stood aside, his eyes on the door, a scowl of battle on his face. Heresembled a wolf with bared fangs ready to die desperately.

  Ward, quick to read his purpose, interposed. "Wait!" he commanded. "Stayhere; I'll see them. Don't be rash."

  As he passed out into the firelight the outlaw, without relaxing hisvig
ilance, said in a low voice, "Well, girl, I reckon here's where I saygood night."

  "Don't resist," she pleaded. "Don't fight, please! Please! What is theuse? Oh, it's too horrible! If you resist they will kill you!"

  There was no fear in his voice as he replied: "They may not; I'm handywith my gun."

  She was breathless, chilled by the shadow of the impending tragedy. "Butthat would be worse. To kill them would only stain your soul the deeper.You must not fight!"

  "It's self-defense."

  "But they are officers of the law."

  "No matter; I will not be taken alive."

  She moaned in her distress, helplessly wringing her hands. "O God! Whyshould I be witness of this?"

  "You won't be. If this is the sheriff I am going to open that door andmake a dash. What happens will happen outside. You need not see it. I'msorry you have to hear it. But I give you my word--if you must hearsomething I will see to it that you hear as little as possible."

  The latch clicked--he stepped back, and again stood waiting, silent,rigid, ready to act, murderous in design.

  Mrs. Adams entered quickly, and, closing the door behind her, hurriedlywhispered: "It's the sheriff. Hide! The men will hold them as long asthey can. Hide!"

  The outlaw looked about and smiled. "Where?" he asked, almosthumorously. "I'm not a squirrel."

  "Under the bunk. See, there is room."

  He shook his head. "No, I refuse to crawl. I won't sneak. I never have.I take 'em as they come."

  "For my sake," pleaded Alice. "I can't bear to see you killed. Hideyourself. Go to the door," she said to Peggy. "Don't let them in. TellFreeman--" She rose and stood unsteadily, forgetful of her own pain.

  Mrs. Adams urged her to lie down, but she would not. The moments passedin suspense almost too great to be endured.

  "Listen!" commanded the outlaw. "They're coming in."

  As they harkened Ward's voice rose clearly. "You can't miss the camp,"he was saying, as if speaking to some one at a distance. "Just keep thetrail in the snow and you'll find them. I'm sorry we can't put youup--but you see how it is."

  "They're going!" exclaimed Alice. "Thank God, they're going!"

  "It can't be they'll go without searching the shack," the fugitivemuttered, in no measure relaxing his attitude of watchful menace."They're playing a game on us."

  Again the latch clicked, and this time it was Ward who confronted theoutlaw's revolver mouth.

  "It's all right," Ward called, instantly understanding the situation."They're gone. The old man was about played out, for they've beenfighting snow all day, but I told him we couldn't take care of them hereand they have gone on down to the camp. He thinks you got over thedivide. You are all right for the present."

  "They'll come back," replied the other. "It only puts the deal off a fewhours. They'll return, trailin' the whole camp after them. What can Ido? My horse is down there in the herd."

  "That's bad," exclaimed Ward. "I wonder if I could get him for you?"

  "If I had him he's weak and hungry, and the high places are feet deep indrifts. It doesn't signify. I'm corralled any way you look at it, andthe only thing left is to fight."

  "There's our trail to the glacier," Ward musingly suggested; "it's apretty deep furrow--you might make it that way."

  A spark of light leaped into the man's eyes. "How far up does it run?Where does it end?"

  "In Glacier Basin, just at timber-line."

  The outlaw pondered, speaking his thought aloud. "From there across tothe Indian reservation there isn't a wolf track.... It's a man's jobcrossing there, almost sure death, but it's my only show." He hadreplaced his weapon in his belt and was weighing his chance, his eyesfixed on Alice's face. To leave this shelter, this warm circle of light,this sweet girlish presence, and plunge into the dark, the cold and thesnow, was hard. No one but a man of unconquerable courage would haveconsidered it. This man was both desperate and heroic. "It's my onlychance and I'll take it," he said, drawing his breath sharply. "I'llneed your prayers," he added, grimly, with eyes that saw only the girl."If I fail you'll find me up there. I carry my sleeping-powder with me."He touched his revolver as he spoke.

  Alice's mind, sweeping out over that desolate expanse, had a moment'svision of him as he would appear toiling across those towering cliffs,minute as a fly, and her heart grew small and sick.

  "Why don't you stay and take your lawful punishment?" she asked. "Youwill surely perish up there in the cold. Wait for sunlight at least."

  "I am ready to stay and to die here, near you," he replied, with asignificant glance.

  "No, no, not that!" she cried out. "Talk to him, Freeman; persuade himto give himself up. I've done my best to influence him. Don't let himuselessly sacrifice himself."

  Ward perceived something hidden in her voice, some emotion which wasmore than terror, deeper than pity, but his words were grave and kindly."It is a frightful risk, young man, but the trail to the glacier is youronly open road. The sheriff is tired. Even if he finds out that you arehere he may not come back to-night. He will know you cannot escape. Youcan't stir without leaving a telltale mark. If you could only get belowthe snow on the west slope--"

  "Whichever trail I take it's good-by," interrupted the fugitive, stilladdressing Alice. "If there was anything to live for--if you'd say theword!"--she knew what he meant--"I'd stay and take my schooling." Hewaited a moment, and she, looking from his asking face to Ward's calmbrow, could not utter a sound. What could she promise? The outlaw's tonesoftened to entreaty. "If you'll only say I may see you again on theother side of the range 'twill keep my heart warm. Can't you promise methat? It's mighty little."

  He was going to almost certain death, and she could not refuse this."You may write to me--" she faltered. "You know my address--"

  He struck the little book in his pocket. "Yes, I have it safe. Then Imay see you again?"

  Alice, supported by Mrs. Adams, unsteadily rose. "Yes, yes, only go.They are coming back! I can hear them."

  He took her hand. "Good-by," he said, chokingly. "You've given meheart." He bent swiftly and kissed her forehead. "I'll win! You'll hearfrom me."

  "Hurry!" she wildly cried. "I hear voices!"

  He caught up his hat and opened the door. As he faced them his lips wereresolute and his eyes glowing. "It's only good night," he said, andclosed the door behind him.

  "Hold!" shouted Ward. "You must take some food." He tore the door open."Wait--"

  Even as he spoke a pistol-shot resounded through the night. It cutthrough the deathly silence of the forest like a spiteful curse, and wasanswered by another--then, after a short pause, a swift-tearing volleyfollowed.

  "They are killing him!" cried Alice.

  * * * * *

  They brought him in and laid him at her feet. He had requested this, butwhen she bent to peer into his face he had gone beyond speech. Limp andbloody and motionless he lay, with eyes of unfathomable regret andlonging, staring up at her, and as the men stood about with uncoveredheads she stooped to him, forgetful of all else; knelt to lay her handupon his brow.

  "Poor boy! Poor boy!" she said, her eyes blinded with tears.

  His hand stirred, seeking her own, and she took it and pressed it inboth of hers. "Jesus be merciful!" she prayed, softly.

  He smiled faintly in acknowledgment of her presence and her prayer, andin this consolation died.

  Wonderingly, with imperious frown, she rose and confronted the sheriff."How is it that you are unhurt? Did he not fight?"

  "That's what I can't understand, miss," he answered. "He fired onlyonce, and then into the air. 'Pears like he wanted to die."

  Alice understood. His thought was of her. "You shall hear as little aspossible," he had said.

  "And you killed him--as he surrendered," she exclaimed, bitterly, andturned toward the dead man, whose face was growing very peaceful now,and with a blinding pain in her eyes she bent and laid a final caressinghand upon his brow.

  As she faced t
he sheriff again she said, with merciless severity: "I'drather be in his place than yours." Then, with a tired droop in hervoice, she appealed to Ward: "Take me away from here. I'm tired of thissavage world."

  THE LEASER

  _--the tenderfoot hay-roller from the prairies--still tries his luck in some abandoned tunnel--sternly toiling for his sweetheart far away._