They Of The High Trails Part 37

Once again, and with a feeling that it was, perhaps, for the last time, he carried her back to her bench and re-enveloped her in her blankets.

"Stay here with me now," she whispered to him, as she looked up into his face.

And the outlaw, filled with gladness and pride, threw himself on the floor beside her.

VII

The signal pistol-shots came nearer and nearer, but very slowly; and as the outlaw sat beside Alice's couch he took her Bible from his pocket and said:

"I made a stab at reading this last night."

She smiled. "I saw you. How did you like it?"

"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 wors.h.i.+p 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."

Ward again reached a hearty hand. "I'm tremendously obliged to you."

The outlaw quailed under all this praise. "There was mighty little to do," he answered. "I only shared my fire with them."

Ward studied him closer. "Haven't we met before?"

"No, I reckon not."

"I'm quite sure I've seen you somewhere. What are you doing up in here?"

Alice interposed. "What are we going to do?"

Ward turned to the outlaw. "What would you advise? I've only had one idea, and that was to reach this cabin. Now what would you do?"

The outlaw was ready. "I would send a part of the men with the horses down the valley to gra.s.s and I'd wait here till Miss Mansfield is able to ride."

"Will this snow go off?"

"That's my notion."

"It's certain we can't camp here--the horses must have gra.s.s."

"I'll be able to ride in a day or two," Alice said, bravely.

"We could frame up a portable bed and carry you," suggested the outlaw; "but it can't be done to-night, so you'd better send your outfit down to the marsh to camp. The horses are worn out and so are the men."

"Will you guide them to gra.s.s and help them find shelter?"

The outlaw hesitated for an instant, and Alice interposed: "No, no! let Gage do that. I want Mr. Smith to remain here."

Ward perceived in her entreaty something of anxiety and fear, and after the men and horses had started down the slope he turned to the outlaw and said: "I'm mighty grateful to you, Mr. Smith. It must have surprised you to find these women here."

The outlaw dryly replied, "It did!"

Alice added: "It was in the middle of the night, too; but Mr. Smith was very nice about it. He slept outdoors without a word of complaint."

Ward had figured the situation to conclusion: "Smith is a poacher," and though he had a savage dislike of these illicit game-slaughterers, he could not but be glad of the presence of this particular outlaw, and resolved to overlook his trade in grat.i.tude for his cabin and service.

The outlaw helped Adams and Ward to clear away the snow for a tent, and Alice, seeing the three men thus amicably joined in her defense, could not find it in her heart to condemn one of them as a criminal. Here in the white isolation of the peaks the question of crime and its punishment became personal. To have this man's fate in her hand was like grasping the executioner's sword for herself.

"If women had to punish criminals themselves, with their own hand," she asked, "how many of them would do it?"

Peggy came in and whispered to her: "No one else seems to have recognized him. He may get away safely. I hope he will. Shall we tell the men who he is?"

"Yes, we shall have to do that soon, but I'm afraid they won't take the sentimental view of him that we do. I tremble to think of what they will do when they know."