f the affair. His
duty was to fight to the last, to protect life first and then the work
of the contractors. Only when he remembered Tressa did his thoughts
pass beyond the immediate future. Fortunately his wife, alone three
miles away, did not enter his mind as a matter for anxiety.

Arrived within a stone's throw of the shack, and having heard no sound,
he knew that his conclusions as to the disposition of the bohunks were
correct. Swinging out wide of the grade, he skirted about in the
darkness in search of isolated prowlers. The stable was reached
without incident.

The late moon was rising, low still but clear enough to throw a dim
light and touch the tops of the evergreen trees with a cold radiance so
wild and pure that Mahon found it hard to believe in the perils urging
him on. In an hour the light would be strong enough to expose movement
within the danger zone, though the size of the moon and a thin autumn
mist limited it; and the low arc promised long shadows. Far to the
south drifted the running echo of coyotes on the hunt, a shriek and a
howl that never failed to stir the Sergeant's blood though he had lived
with it for years. For a moment he longed for the old prairie
life--the coyotes--the feeding cattle--the cowboys and the sweeping
open spaces.

As he crawled from the stable to the back door a dim shadow moved round
the corner of the shack and disappeared toward the trestle. Though no
sound went with it, he was not alarmed. He challenged in a low voice.
No reply. He stood erect to expose his uniform and called again. But
the thing he had seen filtered into the vague moon shadows and was gone.

Knocking at the door, he waited for a reply. Not a sound reached him,
yet he felt that ears were listening. He tried the latch, found it
caught, and whispered his name. Immediately the door opened and Tressa
Torrance seized his arm.

"All right here?" he enquired.

"Where's Adrian?" Calm and undisturbed was the tone, but he could feel
her hand tremble on his arm.

"He'll be all right," he replied cheerily. "No mere bohunk ever got
the better of Adrian Conrad. Who went out just now?"

"The Indian. He's been waiting for you."

"Oh!"

"Tell me, is it true--what he told us?"

"Only too true. They fired on us up the track."

She heaved a deep breath. "That was what we heard. Nothing more. I
was afraid--Conrad hasn't come. . . . And the Indian wouldn't let any
one leave the shack."