"I am tired," Madeline replied as she took the seat and watched Norman as he at once applied himself to his task.
The large chair was Buckskin Dan's special pride. He had made it big and luxurious, and had covered it with skins of wild animals. To Madeline it was the essence of comfort to nestle among the soft furs and lean her head against the high back. She watched Norman as he moved about the stove piling in dry wood, pouring water into the kettle, and laying the few dishes upon the table. Neither spoke, for words were unnecessary. To each that humble cabin was more beautiful than a gorgeous palace. Love pervaded the room. It had a language without words, and a music without sound.
But Grey's mind was not at rest. The gathering near the store worried him. He realised what those men might do when carried away in the heat of excitement. He thought of the whisky on the shelves, and what the result would be should the men get hold of it. Once he went to the door and listened. Siwash Bill and his companions were standing with their backs against the store, surrounded by the miners. Dan was speaking, and ever and anon above the crackling of the fire Grey could catch a few words. He was telling in fiery language of the murderous attack made by Windy Pete out in the hills that dark night, and of the cowardly attempt at murder in his own cabin.
As the speaker proceeded the cries of rage became fiercer, and it was quite evident to the listening constable that the whisky had been liberally sampled. When he re-entered the cabin his face was graver than usual. He had depended upon Dan, and now he was stirring these men to passionate action.
"Is anything wrong, Norman?" Madeline asked, noting the expression of concern upon his brow.
"I'm afraid so," was the reply. "We can't tell what the miners will do to-night. They are almost beside themselves now. That cursed whisky has let loose the evil demon within them. It always does."
Yells and cries more vehement than before caused Grey to hurry again outside. He heard several shouting for ropes, and noted that the miners had formed more closely about the three wretched men. He realised that there was no time to lose. Hastening across the opening he reached the circle of men, pushed his way through, and stood for a moment and viewed the situation. Several ropes had been found within the store, and nooses had been quickly formed. Extending for several feet from the eaves of the building were two rough-hewn log plates, upon which the roof rested. These, as is often the case, had not been cut off, and on them the storekeeper had often hung articles for safety from the numerous starving Indian dogs which frequented the place when the natives were at Hishu. Over one of these a rope was now thrown, and the noose in the other end was about to be slipped over the head of the terrified squaw man, when Grey stepped quickly to his side.
"What's the meaning of this?" he cried, facing the miners. "Surely you're not going to string these men up?"
"That's what we're going to do, pardner," shouted several. "They deserve more'n that. They stole the kid, an' tried to kill you, didn't they? Step back, and don't interfere."
"But I will interfere," insisted Grey. "I know they deserve severe punishment, but you must not take the law into your own hands. They'll be dealt with, so don't you stain your hands with their blood."