ack over the
narrow trail. He climbed a slope, and here Mary Standish slipped from
his arms and stood with new strength, looking into his face. His breath
was coming in little breaks, and he pointed. Faintly they could make out
the shadows of the corral buildings. Beyond them were no lights
penetrating the gloom from the windows of the range of houses. The
silence of the place was death-like.

And then something grew out of the earth almost at their feet. A hollow
cry followed the movement, a cry that was ghostly and shivering, and
loud enough only for them to hear, and Sokwenna stood at their side. He
talked swiftly. Only Alan understood. There was something unearthly and
spectral in his appearance; his hair and beard were wet; his eyes shot
here and there in little points of fire; he was like a gnome, weirdly
uncanny as he gestured and talked in his monotone while he watched the
nigger-head bottom. When he had finished, he did not wait for an
answer, but turned and led the way swiftly toward the range houses.

"What did he say?" asked the girl.

"That he is glad we are back. He heard the shots and came to meet us."

"And what else?" she persisted.

"Old Sokwenna is superstitious--and nervous. He said some things that
you wouldn't understand. You would probably think him mad if he told you
the spirits of his comrades slain in the kloof many years ago were here
with him tonight, warning him of things about to happen. Anyway, he has
been cautious. No sooner were we out of sight than he hustled every
woman and child in the village on their way to the mountains. Keok and
Nawadlook wouldn't go. I'm glad of that, for if they were pursued and
overtaken by men like Graham and Rossland--"

"Death would be better," finished Mary Standish, and her hand clung more
tightly to his arm.

"Yes, I think so. But that can not happen now. Out in the open they had
us at a disadvantage. But we can hold Sokwenna's place until Stampede
and the herdsmen come. With two good rifles inside, they won't dare to
assault the cabin with their naked hands. The advantage is all ours now;
we can shoot, but they won't risk the use of their rifles."

"Why?"

"Because you will be inside. Graham wants you alive, not dead. And
bullets--"

They had reached Sokwenna's door, and in that moment they hesitated and
turned their faces back to the gloom out of which they had fled. Voices
came suddenly from beyond the corrals. There was no effort at
conce