his cabin up and
was living in it before the Sawtooth discovered his presence.

Al, he believed, was making for Bear Top Pass. Once down the other side
he would find friends to lend him fresh horses. Swan had learned
something of these friends of the Sawtooth, and he could guess pretty
accurately how far some of them would go in their service. Fresh horses
for Al, food--perhaps even a cabin where he could hide Lorraine
away--were to be expected from any one of them, once Al was over the
divide.

Swan glanced up at the sun, saw that it was dropping to late afternoon
and started in at a long, loose-jointed trot across the mountain meadow
called Skyline. A few pines, with scattered clumps of juniper and fir,
dotted the long, irregular stretch of grassland which formed the meadow.
Range cattle were feeding here and there, so wild they lifted heads to
stare at the man and dog, then came trotting forward, their curiosity
unabated by the fact that they had seen these two before.

Jack looked up at his master, looked at the cattle and took his place at
Swan's heels. Swan shouted and flung his arms, and the cattle ducked,
turned and galloped awkwardly away. Swan's trot did not slacken. His
rifle swung rhythmically in his right hand, the muzzle tilted downward.
Beads of perspiration on his forehead had merged into tiny rivulets on
his cheeks and dripped off his clean-lined, square jaw. Still he ran,
his breath unlabored yet coming in whispery aspirations from his great
lungs.

The full length of Skyline Meadow he ran, jumping the small beginning of
Wilder Creek with one great leap that scarcely interrupted the beautiful
rhythm of his stride. At the far end of the clearing, snuggled between
two great pines that reached high into the blue, his squatty cabin
showed red-brown against the precipitous shoulder of Bear Top peak,
covered thick with brush and scraggy timber whipped incessantly by the
wind that blew over the mountain's crest.

At the door Swan stopped and examined the crude fastening of the door;
made himself certain, by private marks of his own, that none had entered
in his absence, and went in with a great sigh of satisfaction. It was
still broad daylight, though the sun's rays slanted in through the
window; but Swan lighted a lantern that hung on a nail behind the door,
carried it across the neat little room, and set it down on the floor
beside the usual pioneer cupboard made simply of clean boxes nailed
bottom ag