attended, and he could not shake
off the memory of his comrade's face. Larry had made no protest, but
Breckenridge could understand what he was feeling. The ranch was very
quiet, but he did not think his comrade slept; in this, however, he was
wrong, for, worn out by physical effort and mental strain, Larry had sunk
into heavy slumber.

Two or three hours later Breckenridge awakened suddenly. He sat up
listening, still a little dazed with sleep, but nothing disturbed the
silence of the wooden building, and it was a moment or two before the moan
of the wind forced itself on his perceptions. Then, he thought he heard
the trampling of a horse and stealthy footsteps in the mire below, and,
springing from his bed, ran to the window. The night was dark, but he
could dimly see a few shadowy figures moving towards the house. In another
minute he slipped into part of his clothing and hastening into Grant's
room shook him roughly.

"Get up! There are men outside."

Larry was on his feet in a few seconds and struggling into his garments.
"Light the lamps downstairs," he ordered.

Breckenridge stood still, astonished. "That would give them an advantage.
They might be the Sheriff's boys."

"No," said Larry, with a laugh that sounded very bitter, "I don't think
they are! Go down, and do what I tell you."

Breckenridge went, but his fingers shook so that he broke several sulphur
matches in his haste before he had lighted one big lamp in the log-built
hall. Then, as he turned towards the living room, there was a pounding on
the door, and while he stood irresolute Grant, partly dressed, came
running down the stairway. Two other men showed dimly behind him, but
Breckenridge scarcely saw them, for he sprang through the doorway into the
unlighted room, and the next moment fell over a table. Picking himself up
with an objurgation, he groped along the wall for the rack where the
rifles stood, and was making his way back towards the blink of light with
two of them in his hands, when a hoarse voice demanded admission and the
door rattled under the blows showered upon it. Then, as he came out into
the hall, Grant turned to him.

"Put those rifles down," he said quietly.

Breckenridge stared at him. "But----"

"Put them down!" said Grant, with a little impatient gesture; Breckenridge
let the weapons fall but he was pleased to see the cook, who now stood at
the foot of the stairway, slip softly forward and pick up one of them.
Grant w