Ward explained to Adams: "Our friend Smith here is a poacher--but as our account 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 Peggy went about her cooking, a.s.sisted by her husband and the outlaw, Alice pulled Ward down to her bedside and hurriedly began:

"You remember that placard we read in the station--the one about the train-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 was over, then rode away, intending to cross the divide, but when the snow began again he turned back. He said he couldn't leave us alone. He left us 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 after him."

"But why didn't they meet?"

"Because Mr. Smith came back a different way and then the blizzard came on and covered up his tracks. He thinks the sheriff has gone on over the divide. You must help him, Freeman. Help him to get away and find some way to give him a start. n.o.body could have been more considerate, and I can't see him taken by these cold-blooded men who want that two thousand dollars' reward. He really could have escaped, only for us. He came back to protect us."

Ward pondered. "The problem is not so easy of solution. A train robbery is a pretty serious matter. I'm very grateful to him, but to connive at his escape is itself a punishable act. Why did you tell me? I could have pa.s.sed 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 to know who he is, but definitely to a.s.sist a bandit to escape is a very serious matter."

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

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

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

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

"Why, why could not such a man and such a pa.s.sion come with the orderly and the ethical?" she asked herself.

At the best he was fitted only for the mine or the ranch, and the thought 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-seeing woman. The instant she brought her reason to bear on the problem she perceived that any further acquaintance with this man was dangerous.

They must part here at this moment, and yet she could not let him go without in some way making him feel her wish to help him.

VIII

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

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

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

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

As he pa.s.sed out into the firelight the outlaw, without relaxing his vigilance, said in a low voice, "Well, girl, I reckon here's where I say good night."

"Don't resist," she pleaded. "Don't fight, please! Please! What is the use? 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 handy with my gun."

She was breathless, chilled by the shadow of the impending tragedy. "But that 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 G.o.d! Why should I be witness of this?"

"You won't be. If this is the sheriff I am going to open that door and make a dash. What happens will happen outside. You need not see it. I'm sorry you have to hear it. But I give you my word--if you must hear something 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, hurriedly whispered: "It's the sheriff. Hide! The men will hold them as long as they can. Hide!"

The outlaw looked about and smiled. "Where?" he asked, almost humorously. "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. Hide yourself. Go to the door," she said to Peggy. "Don't let them in. Tell Freeman--" She rose and stood unsteadily, forgetful of her own pain.

Mrs. Adams urged her to lie down, but she would not. The moments pa.s.sed in 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 the trail in the snow and you'll find them. I'm sorry we can't put you up--but you see how it is."

"They're going!" exclaimed Alice. "Thank G.o.d, they're going!"

"It can't be they'll go without searching the shack," the fugitive muttered, in no measure relaxing his att.i.tude of watchful menace.