ding near the fireplace, looking down into the flames, his back to
her.

The axe, she noted, shuddering, was standing on the floor near the
woodpile; and there was no sign of Link or Givens.

For a long time she was silent, watching Lawler, a dread wonder filling
her. And at last, when the continuing silence began to affect her with
its horrible monotony, she said, quaveringly:

"Did--you--Are they _dead_?"

"Yes," said Lawler, gruffly; "I took them out back of the windbreak." He
wheeled, to look straight at her, his gaze level and somber.

"I had to do it--there was no other way. I'm sorry you had to see it."

That was all. He did not speak to her again. For a long time she watched
him, but he did not change position--standing there, tall, big, seeming
to brood into the dancing flames that cast grotesque figures over the
walls of the cabin.

CHAPTER XXI

CHANCE--AND A MAN

Della must have slept, for when she again opened her eyes the light had
been extinguished and a gray glow was coming through the north window.

Morning had come. She gathered the bedclothes around her and sat up,
glancing around the cabin for Lawler. He must have gone out, for the
heavy wooden bar had been removed from the door--it was standing in a
corner. She suspected Lawler had gone out to care for the horses, and
she hurriedly got out of the bunk, ran to the door and barred it, and
began to dress.

A fire roared in the fireplace, and it was warm in the cabin. But she
noted, with an interest that was almost calm, that the storm still raged
as furiously as the night before. There was this difference. Last night
the wind had been driven against the cabin in fitful blasts, for the
most part; now to her ears there came a ceaseless, droning hum with no
intervals of silence between--a steady, vicious, incessant rushing roar
that made her fear the cabin walls could not long resist it.

When she thought of last night's tragedy it seemed almost remote to
her--a thing that had happened long ago; an incident that time had
robbed of its gruesomeness.

For she saw, now, that it had been inevitable--that Lawler had acted in
self-defense. There had been no other way. She shuddered when she
thought of the ghastly things that were lying under the windbreak; but
her own comfort became instantly paramount, and she drew a chair close
to the fire and enjoyed its welcome warmth while dressing.

After dressing she got up from the chair and walk