Ward and the outlaw were discussing plans for getting out of the basin
when Adams came in to say, "A couple of other weary wanderers are
turning up."
"The sheriff!" instantly exclaimed Alice, her face whitening in swift
dismay.
In that moment the forester was transformed. With a weapon in his hand
he stood aside, his eyes on the door, a scowl of battle on his face. He
resembled a wolf with bared fangs ready to die desperately.
Ward, quick to read his purpose, interposed. "Wait!" he commanded. "Stay
here; I'll see them. Don't be rash."
As he passed out into the firelight the outlaw, without relaxing his
vigilance, said in a low voice, "Well, girl, I reckon here's where I say
good night."
"Don't resist," she pleaded. "Don't fight, please! Please! What is the
use? Oh, it's too horrible! If you resist they will kill you!"
There was no fear in his voice as he replied: "They may not; I'm handy
with my gun."
She was breathless, chilled by the shadow of the impending tragedy. "But
that would be worse. To kill them would only stain your soul the deeper.
You must not fight!"
"It's self-defense."
"But they are officers of the law."
"No matter; I will not be taken alive."
She moaned in her distress, helplessly wringing her hands. "O God! Why
should I be witness of this?"
"You won't be. If this is the sheriff I am going to open that door and
make a dash. What happens will happen outside. You need not see it. I'm
sorry you have to hear it. But I give you my word--if you must hear
something I will see to it 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 does it end?"
"In Glacier Basin, just at timber-line."
The outlaw pondered, speaking his thought aloud. "From there across to
the Indian reservation there isn't a wolf track.... It's a man's job
crossing there, almost sure death, but it's my only show." He had
replaced his weapon in his belt and was weighing his chance, his eyes
fixed on Alice's face. To leave this shelter, this warm circle of light,
this sweet girlish presence, and plunge into the dark, the cold and the
snow, was hard. No one but a man of unconquerable courage would have
considered it. This man was both desperate and heroic. "It's my only
chance and I'll take it," he said, drawing his breath sharply. "I'll
need your prayers," he added, grimly, with eyes that saw only the girl.
"If I fail you'll find me up there. I carry my sleeping-powder with me."
He touched his revolver as he spoke.
Alice's mind, sweeping out over that desolate expanse, had a moment's
vision of him as he would appear toiling across those towering cliffs,
minute as a fly, and her heart grew small and sick.
"Why don't you stay and take your lawful punishment?" she asked. "You
will surely perish up there in the cold. Wait for sunlight at least."
"I am ready to stay and to die here, near you," he replied, with a
significant glance.
"No, no, not that!" she cried out. "Talk to him, Freeman; persuade him
to give himself up. I've done my best to influence him. Don't let him
uselessly sacrifice himself."
Ward perceived something hidden in her voice, some emotion which was
more than terror, deeper than pity, but his words were grave and kindly.
"It is a frightful risk, young man, but the trail to the glacier is your
only open road. The sheriff is tired. Even if he finds out that you are
here he may not come back to-night. He will know you cannot escape. You
can't stir without leaving a telltale mark. If you could only get below
the snow on the west slope--"
"Whichever trail I take it's good-by," interrupted the fugitive, still
addressing Alice. "If there was anything to live for--if you'd say the
word!"--she knew what he meant--"I'd stay and take my schooling." He
waited a moment, and she, looking from his asking face to Ward's calm
brow, could not utter a sound. What could she promise? The outlaw's tone
softened to entreaty. "If you'll only say I may see you again on the
other side of the range 'twill keep my heart warm. Can't you promise me
that? It's mighty little."
He was going to almost certain death, and she could not refuse this.
"You may write to me--" she faltered. "You know my address--"
He struck the little book in his pocket. "Yes, I have it safe. Then I
may see you again?"
Alice, supported by Mrs. Adams, unsteadily rose. "Yes, yes, only go.
They are coming back! I can hear them."
He took her hand. "Good-by," he said, chokingly. "You've given me
heart." He bent swiftly and kissed her forehead. "I'll win! You'll hear
from me."
"Hurry!" she wildly cried. "I hear voices!"
He caught up his hat and opened the door. As he faced them his lips were
resolute and his eyes glowing. "It's only good night," he said, and
closed the door behind him.
"Hold!" shouted Ward. "You must take some food." He tore the door open.
"Wait--"
Even as he spoke a pistol-shot resounded through the night. It cut
through the deathly silence of the forest like a spiteful curse, and was
answered by another--then, after a short pause, a swift-tearing volley
followed.
"They are killing him!" cried Alice.
* * * * *
They brought him in and laid him at her feet. He had requested this, but
when she bent to peer into his face he had gone beyond speech. Limp and
bloody and motionless he lay, with eyes of unfathomable regret and
longing, staring up at her, and as the men stood about with uncovered
heads she stooped to him, forgetful of all else; knelt to lay her hand
upon his brow.
"Poor boy! Poor boy!" she said, her eyes blinded with tears.
His hand stirred, seeking her own, and she took it and pressed it in
both of hers. "Jesus be merciful!" she prayed, softly.
He smiled faintly in acknowledgment of her presence and her prayer, and
in this consolation died.
Wonderingly, with imperious frown, she rose and confronted the sheriff.
"How is it that you are unhurt? Did he not fight?"
"That's what I can't understand, miss," he answered. "He fired only
once, and then into the air. 'Pears like he wanted to die."
Alice understood. His thought was of her. "You shall hear as little as
possible," he had said.
"And you killed him--as he surrendered," she exclaimed, bitterly, and
turned toward the dead man, whose face was growing very peaceful now,
and with a blinding pain in her eyes she bent and laid a final caressing
hand upon his brow.
As she faced the sheriff again she said, with merciless severity: "I'd
rather be in his place than yours." Then, with a tired droop in her
voice, she appealed to Ward: "Take me away from here. I'm tired of this
savage world."