"No, I cannot promise that."
"Why can't I play the ranger here and wait upon you till the men
return?"
"Because Professor Ward read that placard with me. He will know you
instantly. I wish you'd go. Gage may come at any moment now."
Peggy came in with disturbed look. "It looks like rain," she announced;
"the clouds are settling down all over the peaks."
The outlaw sprang up and went to the door. "It looked bad when I got
up," he said, as he studied the sky. "I guess we're in for trouble. It
may be snow."
His fears were soon realized. Rain began to fall in a thin drizzle, and
at four o'clock the first faint flakes of snow began to flash amid the
gray veils of the water-drops. The women looked at each other in alarm
as the cabin's interior darkened with the ominous shadow of the storm.
"I don't like this a bit," said Peggy, after a while. "This is no
mountain squall. I wish the men were here."
"It can't be anything that will last," replied Alice. "It isn't time for
the winter snows."
"I know," replied Peggy. "But it's snowing perfect feather beds now,
and no wind. Lucky this forest-ranger is here. The men may get lost in
this storm."
"Mercy! Don't speak of such a thing!" exclaimed Alice; but she knew,
just the same, that Ward and his party were high in the peaks, far, far
above the cabin, and that the storm there would be proportionately
fiercer. She listened with growing thankfulness to the outlaw's blows
upon the dry limbs of wood that he was chopping for the fire. He was
very capable and would not desert them--of that she felt assured.
As the man worked on, the women both came to keen realization of the
serious view he took of the storm. He mounted his horse and with his
rope dragged great bundles of fagots from the thickets. As he came up,
laden with one of his bundles of hard-won fuel, Mrs. Adams asked:
"You don't think it will keep this up, do you?"
"You never can tell what will happen in these mountains. It doesn't
generally snow much till later, but you can't bank on anything in this
range."
Alice called to him and he stepped inside. "What do you think we'd
better do?" she asked.
"There isn't a thing you can do, miss. It's just a case of stick it out.
It may let up by sundown; but, as it is, your party can't get back
to-night, and if you don't mind I'll camp down just outside the door and
keep the fire going."
"You will be a comfort to us," she replied, "but I feel that--that you
ought to be going. Isn't it dangerous for you? I mean you will be shut
in here."
"If I'm shut in, others are shut out," he answered, with a grim smile.
"My job is to keep fire." With these words he returned to his work of
breaking limbs from the dead firs.
Alice said: "If it does turn out as this--this ranger says--if the storm
keeps up, you mustn't let him sleep out in the snow."
"Of course not," said Peggy. "He can sleep inside. I trust him
perfectly--and, besides, you have your revolver."
Alice smiled a little, wondering how Peggy's trust would stand the
strain of a fuller knowledge concerning their guardian's stirring
career.