She grew white in sympathy. “It is a frightful price to pay for one insane act, and yet—crime should be punished.”
“I’m getting my punishment now,” he replied, with darkly brooding glance. “There’s a good old man and two women, my sisters, waiting for me down the slope. If I could reach home I’d try to live straight, but it’s a long and dangerous trail between here and there.”
Peggy now ran into the cabin. “It’s the expedition,” she announced. “I can see Freeman.”
“I reckon this is where I get off,” said the outlaw in a tone of mingled relief and dismay.
“No, no!” Alice entreated. “Stay till Freeman comes. He will help you. Let me explain to him. I know he will not betray you.”
He looked at her again with that intent, longing worship in his eyes, and answered, “I accept the chance for the sake of one more hour with you.”
The outlaw stepped to the door, and he saw a man at the head of his train mid-leg deep in snow, leading his horse, breaking the way for his followers, who were on foot, crawling, stumbling, and twisting among the down-timber, unmindful of the old trail.
At sight of that big and resolute leader, with flowing black beard and ruddy face, the outlaw was filled with jealous sadness. To find Ward a man of superb physical prowess, the kind that measures peaks for the fun of it, was disturbing, and without defining his feeling he was plunged into melancholy musing. And when later Ward entered, and, stooping over the couch, kissed Alice, the end of his idyl seemed to him announced.
In the bustle of the moment, in the interchange of anxious, hurried inquiries, the outlaw stood aside in the corner, unnoticed, till Alice caught Ward’s arm and said:
“Freeman, this is Mr. Smith, to whom we owe a great deal. He has taken the utmost care of us. We would have frozen but for him.”