"The Gorman camp—if we can make it; if we can reach the river."
"There's the old quarry," she exclaimed as they came out on the crest of a blast-gnarled cliff overlooking a stream. "I know their camp is near the quarry."
"But on the other side of the river. Don't talk; run," he pleaded, leading her down a footpath that traced a winding way over the face of the cliff into the quarry.
In the shelter of the rocks there stood two small buildings about five hundred yards apart. One was the old tool house of the deserted quarry. The other was a hunter's hut, evidently newly built.
A commanding cry came from the top of the cliff.
"Halt or we fire!"
They ran on. A shot echoed and a bullet flattened itself against the stone base of the quarry not two yards from Pauline.
"In here—quick," said Harry, dragging her to the hunter's lodge and thrusting her through the open door. There was another shot and the thud of another bullet as he slammed the door.
"It looks like a fight now, Polly," he said, as he' moved quickly around the hut. "And thank Heaven—here's something to fight with."
From a rack in the wall he lifted down a Winchester rifle and a belt of cartridges. "Get into the corner and lie down," he ordered.