All along she had held tenaciously to the thought that Babe Deveril would come for her. Perhaps he had come now; perhaps he lingered outside, not knowing positively that she was here, not knowing if Standing were awake or asleep, not knowing if Standing were sick of his wound or ready with rifle in hand.
Her thoughts began to fly like stabs of lightning; briefly they made everything clear only to plunge her whole world of thought back into even more profound darkness. Babe Deveril? It might be! Or it might be Mexicali Joe, lurking after his fashion. Or it might, equally well, be Taggart with Gallup and that other man at his heels. By now she was certain of only one thing: There was some one out there.
She stood rigid for ten or fifteen minutes; Standing had become quiet save for his heavy breathing; she strove with all senses upgathered tensely to read the riddle of the night. Once she was sure of a sound outside; but the mystery of a night sound is so baffling! A man's cautious tread? Or a limb stirring gently? Or a bird among leaves, or a rabbit? It was so easy a matter, with her senses so freshly aroused from a nightmare of wild animals and savage pursuers, to people the night with fantastic menaces.
Bruce Standing was unarmed; his rifle dropped somewhere outside when he had dashed after her. She, too, was without a weapon. He had given her the big revolver; she had refused it; she had flung it angrily to the floor, near the bunk. She remembered seeing it there, almost out of sight, under the bunk....
If it were Babe Deveril, she had nothing to fear. If Mexicali Joe, she had nothing to fear. If Taggart and Gallup and the other? What had she to fear from them? Merely arrest, at most, and not so long ago she had been eager for that! And if some prowling animal?
"There's nothing to hurt me," she told herself, fighting to throttle down that trepidation which had leaped upon her when she first awoke with the wildly beating heart of one threatened in sleep. "If I only had that revolver now ... if it chanced to be wolf or bear or mountain-cat, one shot at it would send it scurrying. And, if a man, there is none for me to be afraid of."
She began, ever so slowly and guardedly, tiptoeing across the floor. She came to the bunk; she stooped and groped, and at last her fingers closed about the fallen revolver. She clinched it tightly and stood up, again rigid. This time she was sure of the sound which came again; a man's step, as guarded as her own had been, but betrayed by a little dry twig snapping.
Again she waited, without moving, a long time. And not another sound; only Standing's deep breathing. Once she thought that his breathing had changed; that he, too, was awake. But after a moment she persuaded herself that she had imagined that; that he was still sleeping heavily. But no further sound outside. What a cautious man, or what a cowardly, was he out there! What did he want?
Suddenly she thought of Thor. How was it that Thor, a dog, hence man's superior in as many matters as he was man's inferior, a thing of keenest senses, had given no sign? Why had not Thor stirred when she did; why had he not heard what she heard; why was he not already rushing out, growling, demanding to know what intruder lurked in such stealth at his master's door? Had there been a ray of light in the cabin she would have had her answer; for Bruce Standing was sitting up, his arms were about Thor, one big hand was at Thor's muzzle, commanding quiet. And when Standing commanded, Thor obeyed.