ed.
Providence came to his assistance at that crisis. Someone called from
the interior of the house. There was an odd-sounding exclamation from
the cook, and then the latter jumped up and scurried inside, slamming
the screen door behind him with a great racket.

Sinclair raised his head and surveyed the side of the wall for the last
time. The sill of the window of the first floor was no higher than his
shoulders. The eaves above that window projected well out, and they
would afford an excellent hold by which he could swing himself up. But
having swung up, the great problem was to obtain sufficient purchase
for his knee to keep from sliding off before he had a chance to steady
himself. Once on the ledge of those eaves, he could stand up and look
through any one of the three windows into the room which, according to
the boy, Cartwright occupied.

He lifted himself onto the sill of the first window, bumping his nose
sharply against the pane of the glass.

Then began the more difficult task. He straightened and fixed his
fingers firmly on the ledge above him, waiting until his palm and the
fingertips had sweated into a steady grip. Then he stepped as far as
possible to one side and sprang up with a great heave of the shoulders.

But the effort was too great. He not only flung himself far enough up,
but too far, and his descending knee, striving for a hold, slipped off
as if from an oiled surface. He came down with a jar, the full length
of his arms, a fall that flung him down on his back on the ground.

With a stifled curse he leaped up again. It seemed that the noise of
that fall must have resounded for a great distance, but, as he stood
there listening, no one drew near. Someone came out of the front door
of the hotel, laughing.

The cowpuncher tried again. He managed the first stage of the ascent,
as before, very easily, but, making the second effort he exceeded too
much in caution and fell short. However, the fall did not include a
toppling all the way to the ground. His feet landed softly on the sill,
and, at the same time, voices turned the corner of the building beside
him. Sinclair flattened himself against the pane of the lower window
and held his breath. Two men were beneath him. Their heads were level
with his feet. He could have kicked the hats off their heads, without
the slightest trouble.

It was a mystery that they did not see him, he thought, until he
recalled that all men, at night, naturally face