A stiff breeze was swinging through the night as the Vigilance Committee left the saloon and started for the nearest cabin. The stars were hidden, and the weather had moderated, presaging a storm. The wind was soughing in the trees like a wandering spirit, while far in the distance the faint howl of a wolf was heard. The line of rough buildings stood indistinct in the darkness, unrelieved by one ray of light. They sent a chill to the hearts of several of the men by their gloomy silence. In one of these, perhaps, the stolen treasure was lying, the innocent cause of the disturbance.
It had been arranged that the rest of the men should remain in the saloon while the cabins were being searched. Then, if nothing came to light, a new line of action was to be entered upon. Only Tim Fleeters accompanied the searchers. He would be necessary, it was considered, to recognize the poke.
"Ugh!" exclaimed Mickie O'Toole, as they entered the first house, and lighted a candle. "This place makes me crape, it's so still and death-loike." Every nook was examined; the small box, the blankets, while even the stove, from which the fire had died out, was not overlooked. One by one the cabins were entered, and the same monotonous work continued. Some of these Keith had never entered before, and their bareness appalled him. What was there, he wondered, in this golden lure, which could induce men to abandon every comfort, and undergo such hardships in that desolate land? Was the uncertain game worth it all? He could not believe it. At length the last house was searched, the one which stood by the trail leading to the Indian village. Nothing, so far, had been discovered, and the men peered at one another through the darkness.
"Well," said Perdue, "we've had all this work for nothing, and I'm sick of the job."
"But we're not through yet," replied Pritchen sharply. "There are several more to visit, your own, the Radhurst cabin, and the mission house, to say nothing of the Indian shacks."
"But ye wouldn't bother the old man and his daughter this time of the night, surely," responded the saloonkeeper.
"I'd as soon distarb me mither's grave," said Mickie, "as to frighten the swate-faced lady up yon by our presence to-night."
"Umph! I guess she won't mind," sneered Pritchen, "especially if the parson's along."
The blood rushed into Keith's face, as he listened to these remarks. It was hard for him to stand quietly there and hear these men speak so lightly of one whose image was enshrined in his heart, and who was becoming dearer to him every day. Her pure face and large, wondering eyes rose before him, and when Pritchen uttered his coarse sneer he turned suddenly upon him.
"What do you mean by those words?" he demanded.