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!"