ng from justice,
deserving of no consideration. Yet their distressed appearance, their
lack of vigilance, rendered him careless. They seemed too weak to
resist, too exhausted to fight; the cold plucking at their hearts had
seemingly already conquered. It was this impression which caused him
to act recklessly, rising to his feet, rifle in hand, directly in their
track, halting their advance with stern command.

"Hands up! Quick now, the three of you! Don't wait, Dupont; I 've got
the drop!"

The white man was in front, a huge, shapeless figure in his furs, his
black beard frosted oddly. He stood motionless, astounded at this
strange apparition in blue cavalry overcoat, which had sprung up so
suddenly in that wilderness. For an instant he must have deemed the
vision confronting him some illusion of the desert, for he never
stirred except to rub a gloved hand across his eyes.

"By all the gods, Dupont," roared the Sergeant impatiently, "do you
want me to shoot? Damn you, throw up your hands!"

Slowly, as though his mind was still in a dream, the man's hands were
lifted above his head, one grasping a short, sawed-off gun. The
expression upon his face was ugly, as he began to dimly understand what
this unexpected hold-up meant. There followed an instant of silence,
in which Hamlin, forgetful of Hughes, who still remained lying quiet in
the snow, took a step or two forward, rifle at shoulder. The two
Indians, swathed in blankets, but with arms upraised, were in direct
line, motionless as statues. He could see the gleam of their dark
eyes, and even noticed the figure of the girl straighten in the saddle.

Dupont gave fierce utterance to an oath. Apparently he failed to
recognize the soldier, but as Hughes rose to his knees, suspicion
leaped instantly to his brain.

"A hold-up, hey!" he said coolly. "Hughes, you sneaking old coward,
come out into the open once. What is it you want?"

"Nothing to that, Dupont," returned the Sergeant, glancing back
questioningly toward his companion. "Your old partner is here under my
orders. I am Sergeant Hamlin, Seventh Cavalry. Throw down that gun!"

"What! You--"

"Yes, you are my prisoner, I 've followed you from Dodge. Throw down
the gun!"

It was dropped sullenly into the snow.

"Now, Hughes, go ahead, and disarm those Indians."

The cowman shuffled forward, revolver in hand, circling to keep safely
beyond reach of Dupont, who eyed him maliciously. The l