that you hear as little as possible."

The latch clicked--he stepped back, and again stood waiting, silent,
rigid, ready to act, murderous in design.

Mrs. Adams entered quickly, and, closing the door behind her, hurriedly
whispered: "It's the sheriff. Hide! The men will hold them as long as
they can. Hide!"

The outlaw looked about and smiled. "Where?" he asked, almost
humorously. "I'm not a squirrel."

"Under the bunk. See, there is room."

He shook his head. "No, I refuse to crawl. I won't sneak. I never have.
I take 'em as they come."

"For my sake," pleaded Alice. "I can't bear to see you killed. Hide
yourself. Go to the door," she said to Peggy. "Don't let them in. Tell
Freeman--" She rose and stood unsteadily, forgetful of her own pain.

Mrs. Adams urged her to lie down, but she would not. The moments passed
in suspense almost too great to be endured.

"Listen!" commanded the outlaw. "They're coming in."

As they harkened Ward's voice rose clearly. "You can't miss the camp,"
he was saying, as if speaking to some one at a distance. "Just keep the
trail in the snow and you'll find them. I'm sorry we can't put you
up--but you see how it is."

"They're going!" exclaimed Alice. "Thank God, they're going!"

"It can't be they'll go without searching the shack," the fugitive
muttered, in no measure relaxing his attitude of watchful menace.
"They're playing a game on us."

Again the latch clicked, and this time it was Ward who confronted the
outlaw's revolver mouth.

"It's all right," Ward called, instantly understanding the situation.
"They're gone. The old man was about played out, for they've been
fighting snow all day, but I told him we couldn't take care of them here
and they have gone on down to the camp. He thinks you got over the
divide. You are all right for the present."

"They'll come back," replied the other. "It only puts the deal off a few
hours. They'll return, trailin' the whole camp after them. What can I
do? My horse is down there in the herd."

"That's bad," exclaimed Ward. "I wonder if I could get him for you?"

"If I had him he's weak and hungry, and the high places are feet deep in
drifts. It doesn't signify. I'm corralled any way you look at it, and
the only thing left is to fight."

"There's our trail to the glacier," Ward musingly suggested; "it's a
pretty deep furrow--you might make it that way."

A spark of light leaped into the man's eyes. "How far up does it run?
Where