"Step as lightly as you can," she said.
I was willing enough to obey her. She had made me see the truth about her father, and while I was opposed to death under any circumstances I wished least of all to face it very early on a cold morning, and perhaps have my body tumbled into a ditch afterward. This, too, in the year of peace 1896. Accordingly, I shod my feet with felt. We passed from the upper hall to the lower in safety, and reached the front door. Then I saw that in fact she had prepared the way for me. No guard was there, nor did she even need to unlock any bolts. She pushed the door open, and in rushed a flood of the cool night air. I knew then that the wind of heaven was the wind of freedom.
The outside of Fort Defiance seemed to be, like the inside, without guards. The river plashed and gurgled in the dusk, and the dry leaves rustled as the wind blew them upon one another, but that was all. The fort seemed to be asleep. The muzzle of the little brass cannon that swept the drawbridge was hidden in the darkness, and the cannon was without threat.
Miss Hetherill left me at the door a few moments, and when she returned she thrust into my hands a military knapsack which seemed to be well filled.
"It contains food," she said: "you will need it."
I hung the knapsack over my shoulder and followed her, for she was already leading the way to the drawbridge, which was down and unguarded. A few steps took us across. I looked back at Fort Defiance, a solid dark mass, no light anywhere showing that it was tenanted.
"Miss Hetherill," I said, and I was speaking sincerely, "you have done much for me, and I am very grateful, but do not go any farther. I can find my way now, and I will say good-by to you here."
"No," she said; "I will take you out of the valley and put you on your road."
Her tone did not admit of protest, and without a word I followed her. She led the way across the valley directly toward the nearest mountain slope. I will admit that on this journey I was cherishing a feeling of satisfaction. It is not only pleasant to have a pretty girl interest herself in one's behalf, but still pleasanter, if one's life must be saved at all, to have it saved by that same pretty girl.
At the point to which we were trending, the first slope of the mountain was not distant more than half a mile. The path was clear, and we were soon there. I felt like uttering my thanks again, but such words seemed so futile that I remained silent.