and by, when we grow older, we leave both the "give
me" and the "let-me-give" to God.

The old man knew it must be almost six o'clock; for the light came
aslant the gap and the chill of the upper snow crept down from the
mountain. A pretty business this, it seemed to him: twenty miles back
of beyond; horses sent on at random ahead; a gang of murderers in
hiding above--Matthews walked boldly along the precipice trail, saw the
eagle below circling, still circling; heard a hawk skirr and scold from
a dead branch--Then, he deliberately pointed his voice to the rock wall
of the echo across the gorge and let out a yell that split the
welkin--A thousand--ten thousand--multitudinous eldritch laughing
echoes came jibbering and mumbling and giggling and shrilling back from
the rock, filling the Pass with chattering, knocking sounds that
skipped from stone to stone.

Instantly, a shot, a shout, a bang, the rocking crash of echoes--mixed
with ear-splitting, rocketting shots--a crunch of feet--the old man
dashed to the hiding of his crag. A spurt of gravel mid showers of
dust and snorting of horses--Not on the trail at all but almost over
his back, slithered and slid and bunched horses and men, pell mell, the
white horse leading the way braced back on its haunches, the fellow in
the yellow slicker rumbling a volcano of lurid curses--The outlaws had
not followed the goat track at all but jumped sheer from the higher
slope to the Pass trail.

Shouting "Stop!--Stop!--I command you in the name of the State to
stop--!" the old man sprang to the middle of the trail flourishing the
rifle above his head.

"State be damned," yelled the fellow in the oil-skin slicker. Never
pausing, turning only to shoot at wild random, the outlaws had
tumbled--stumbled--slid down the slatey slope for the lake.

There was the pound--pound--the huffing of saddle leather--and a horse
came spurring along the Pass trail at reckless gallop. The old man
flung himself athwart--a rider in sheep-skin leggings, hat far back,
came round the rock at break neck pace looking over his shoulder as if
pursued--One jump--the old frontiersman had the horse's bridle! The
shock threw the beast's hind legs clear over the edge jarring the rider
almost to the animal's neck. Next--the old man was looking down the
barrel of the outlaw's big repeater--With a mighty swing, Matthews
clubbed his rifle on the other's wrist. He might have scruples as to
law and conscience; b