“They’ll get him, sure. They can follow his tracks as easy as anything. I don’t suppose I ought to say it, but I hope he’ll get away. Don’t you?”
“Yes, I do!” was Alice’s fervent response. “But see! it’s snowing again. It may cover his trail.”
Peggy went to the door and gazed long and keenly at the peaks. When she turned her face was solemn. “Allie, this is getting pretty serious for us. If the men don’t come to-day they may get snowed up entirely.”
Alice stifled a wail. “Oh, if I were only able to walk I wouldn’t mind. I could help gather fuel and keep the fire going.”
“There’s plenty of wood for another day, but I’m worried about the men. Suppose they are up on that glacier?”
“I’m not worried about them, but I know they are worrying about us. They’ll surely start back this morning; but they may not be able to reach us till night.”
The light of the morning had turned gray and feeble. The air was still and the forest soundless, save now and then when a snow-laden branch creaked with its burden.
There was something majestic as well as menacing in this all-pervading solemn hush.
Peggy went about her duties as cheerfully as she could, but with a wider knowledge of mountaineering than Alice had. She was at heart quite terrified. “We’re going to miss our nice outlaw,” she remarked. “He was so effective as a purveyor of wood.” Then she went to the door and looked out. “That sheriff will never keep his trail,” she said.
“What’s that?” suddenly asked Alice.