rie a long distance away.

In its flight it passed directly over the heads of the wife and child,
who noticed the peculiar whistling sound a few feet above them. But they
were as safe from such danger as if a mile away. The swell of the bank
would not allow any missile to come nigh enough to harm them.

"Don't be frightened," he said, with a reassuring smile, "they can't
touch you as long as they are on the other side."

"But how long will they stay there?" asked the wife, unable to repress
her uneasiness over the tardiness of her husband.

"Molly," said he, stirred by a sudden thought, "why not ride after the
pack-horse?"

"And leave you here?" was the astonished question.

"Only for a few minutes; you will gain a good start, and it won't take
me long to come up with you. I can put my pony on a run, and we shall
gain invaluable time."

But this was asking more than the obedient wife was willing to grant. No
possible circumstances could justify her in deserting her husband. If he
fell, she had no wish to escape.

Dot, who had held her peace so long, now spoke:

"Papa, don't ask us to leave you, 'cause we don't want to. I asked mamma
to let me go to you, but she says no."

Tears filled the eyes of the father, and his voice trembled as he said:

"Very well, little one; stay with your mamma, and when the time comes
for us to start we will go together."

"But why don't you go now?" persisted the child, taking her cue,
perhaps, from the words her mother had spoken.

"I will not keep you waiting long," he assured her, more affected by the
question of the child than by the arguments of her mother.

Shifting the point of observation, the rancher raised his head just
enough, cautiously parting the grass in front, to permit him to see the
other bank, becoming more dimly visible in the falling snow and
gathering gloom.

He scanned the points whence had come the shots, but could discover
nothing of his enemies. They might be there, but if so they were
invisible, as could readily be the case; but, somehow or other, the
conviction grew upon him that they were moving, and that to postpone his
departure longer was to invite the worst fate imaginable for himself and
dear ones.

"We cannot leave too soon," he exclaimed, hastening to carry out the
purpose that never ought to have been delayed so long.

CHAPTER XIII.

IN THE FRINGE OF THE WOODS.

Fully realizing the mistake he had made in waiting, the ranche