"I didn't exactly get aboard someway."
"What was the trouble?"
"I guess it was because I kept thinking of you--and my own place in the
game. Three days ago I didn't care what became of me, but now I want a
chance. I don't see any chance coming my way, but if I had it I'd make
use of it." He looked at her a moment in silence, then with sudden
intensity broke forth. "Do you know what you mean to me? When I look at
your face and eyes I'm crazy hungry for you."
She shrank from him and called to Mrs. Adams.
He went on. "Oh, you needn't be afraid. I just wanted to say it, that's
all. If there was only some other way to straighten myself--but I can't
go to jail. I can't stand up to be clipped like a poodle-dog, then put
on striped clothing and walk lock-step--I can't do it! They'll put me in
for ten years. I'd be old when I got out." He shuddered. "No, I won't do
that! I'd rather die here in the hills."
She grew white in sympathy. "It is a frightful price to pay for one
insane act, and yet--crime should be punished."
"I'm getting my punishment now," he replied, with darkly brooding
glance. "There's a good old man and two women, my sisters, waitin' for
me down the slope. If I could reach home I'd try to live straight, but
it's a long and dangerous trail between here and there."
Peggy now ran into the cabin. "It's the expedition," she announced. "I
can see Freeman."
"I reckon this is where I get off," said the outlaw in a tone of mingled
relief and dismay.
"No, no!" Alice entreated. "Stay till Freeman comes. He will help you.
Let me explain to him. I know he will not betray you."
He looked at her again with that intent, longing worship in his eyes,
and answered, "I accept the chance for the sake of one more hour with
you."
The outlaw stepped to the door, and he saw a man at the head of his
train mid-leg deep in snow, leading his horse, breaking the way for his
followers, who were all on foot, crawling, stumbling, and twisting among
the down-timber, unmindful of the old trail.
At sight of that big and resolute leader, with flowing black beard and
ruddy face, the outlaw was filled with jealous sadness. To find Ward a
man of superb physical prowess, the kind that measures peaks for the fun
of it, was disturbing, and without defining his feeling he was plunged
into melancholy musing. And when later Ward entered, and, stooping over
the couch, kissed Alice, the end of his idyl seemed to him announced.
In the bustle of the moment, in the interchange of anxious, hurried
inquiries, the outlaw stood aside in the corner, unnoticed, till Alice
caught Ward's arm and said:
"Freeman, this is Mr. Smith, to whom we owe a great deal. He has taken
the utmost care of us. We would have frozen but for him."
Ward shook hands with the outlaw, but wonderingly asked of Alice, "But
where was Gage?"
The outlaw answered, "Gage got lost and only turned up a couple of hours
ago."
Ward turned to Alice in horror. "Good Lord! And you were here
alone--crippled--in this storm?"
"No--that's what I'm telling you. Mr. Smith came and took care of us. He
brought our wood, he cooked for us, he kept our fire going. He gave up
his bed, even his blankets, for us. You should be very generous to him."