t, so nobody could see."

"But the gun? We did n't find any."

"'E 'ad it with 'im. It was Sissie Larsen's. No, Boy, there must 'ave
been a fight--but don't think that I mean your father murdered anybody.
If Sissie Larsen attacked 'im with a gun, then 'e 'ad a right to kill.
But as I 've told you before--there would n't 'ave been a chance for
'im to prove 'is story with Squint working against 'im. And that's one
reason why I did n't ask any questions. And neither did Mother 'Oward.
We were willing to take your father's word that 'e 'ad n't done
anything wrong--and we were willing to 'elp 'im to the limit."

"You did it, Harry."

"We tried to--" He ceased and perked his head toward the bottom of the
shaft, listening intently. "Did n't you 'ear something?"

"I thought so. Like a woman's voice."

"Listen--there it is again!"

They were both silent, waiting for a repetition of the sound. Faintly
it came, for the third time:

"Mr. Fairchild!"

They ran to the foot of the shaft, and Fairchild stared upward. But he
could see no one. He cupped his hands and called:

"Who wants me?"

"It's me." The voice was plainer now--a voice that Fairchild
recognized immediately.

"I 'm--I 'm under arrest or something up here," was added with a laugh.
"The guard won't let me come down."

"Wait, and I 'll raise the bucket for you. All right, guard!" Then,
blinking with surprise, he turned to the staring Harry. "It's Anita
Richmond," he whispered. Harry pawed for his mustache.

"On a night like this? And what the bloody 'ell is she doing 'ere,
any'ow?"

"Search me!" The bucket was at the top now.

A signal from above, and Fairchild lowered it, to extend a hand and to
aid the girl to the ground, looking at her with wondering, eager eyes.
In the light of the carbide torch, she was the same boyish appearing
little person he had met on the Denver road, except that snow had taken
the place of dust now upon the whipcord riding habit, and the brown
hair which caressed the corners of her eyes was moist with the breath
of the blizzard. Some way Fairchild found his voice, lost for a moment.

"Are--are you in trouble?"

"No." She smiled at him.

"But out on a night like this--in a blizzard. How did you get up here?"

She shrugged her shoulders.

"I walked. Oh," she added, with a smile, "it did n't hurt me any. The
wind was pretty stiff--but then I 'm fairly strong. I rather enjoyed
it."

"But what's h