“Then we will sleep.”
They proceeded to do this with a celerity that was astonishing. Soon their heavy snoring rumbled across the stillness of the room.
The hours passed slowly, seeming interminable. Dick slept by fits and starts. Once he awoke, conscious of a strange feeling. Had he heard someone moving about? He lay very still, endeavoring to catch the sound again, but although he listened for a long time, it was not repeated. He was almost asleep again when soft footfalls issued from the loft. A faint cushion-like tread, a creak of the ladder, then a vague form groping about the room.
The person, whoever it was, paused and remained perfectly still for several tense moments. Again the soft footfalls. Another pause. The ghostly visitor was getting closer now—almost within reach of Dick’s arm, had he been able to use it. The figure advanced another step; a hand groped forth experimentally. Dick’s heart almost stopped beating. Dark as it was, he caught the gleam of a knife.
The Indian girl! A surge of elation swept over him. She stooped down and a moment later his bonds were cut. He was free! It seemed incredible. He was free! He could move his numb and aching limbs. Under the stress of a great emotion, he reached up and patted his rescuer’s soft cheek. Just then he could have shed tears of happiness.
Not even a whisper had passed between them. The girl pressed the knife in his hand, and then, to his utter astonishment, a bulky object, which he knew immediately was his own automatic. Abruptly she left him. The soft footfalls across the floor, the faint creak of the ladder, a rustle in the loft above—followed by a deep, unearthly silence. Dick lay, eyes open wide, staring out across the room. The girl had not been heard. The whilom packers still slept, as their deep breathing attested. His chance had come!
He sat up cautiously, his gaze turned in the direction of the door. It was about twelve feet away. To reach it, it would be necessary to pass the sleeping form of the half-breed who had bound him. Trembling, he arose, feeling his way ahead but had gone only a few steps when he stopped short in uncertainty. No longer could he hear the man’s deep breathing. Was he awake? Fully five minutes passed before Dick again essayed to move, to dare take the risk. Then, gaining more confidence, he tiptoed straight to the door, one hand reaching out to shoot the bolt.
Two spurts of flame stabbed the dark, a hurtling form missed him by a scant three inches as he swung open the door. He leaped outside and started away on a run. The wind tore at his clothes. His parka slipped from his head and fell to the ground. Through the smothering obscurity of the night he raced wildly, in his terror imagining that he could hear plainly the patter of footsteps behind. Never once did he slacken his speed until he had reached the foot of the slope, leading up from the ancient bed of the lake. Here he stopped short, choking for breath, listening fearfully for the sound of his pursuers.
Dick did not deceive himself in believing that no attempt would be made to recapture him. Even now the outlaws had probably left the cabin and were in swift pursuit. He paused in the shelter of a bush to strike a match and consult his watch. To his surprise, it was now nearly six o’clock. Dawn would soon break and it behooved him to put as many miles between him and his pursuers, as possible.
He went on through the pitchy darkness that obscured the earth. He had a fair sense of direction, but at length he became confused. For all he knew, he might be travelling miles off his course. When the first faint light of day streaked the east, he paused in dismay. His fears were confirmed. He had been walking south instead of west, and it would be necessary to retrace his steps. His heart was heavy as he turned to the right and struck off through a wilderness of rocks and trees that encompassed him on every side.