s. There was a wild hope
in her heart that he had gone, but presently, becoming a little calmer,
she pressed her ear against the door. There was no doubt of Yuma's
presence; she could hear him stepping softly about the room. Had there
been a window in the room in which she had imprisoned herself she might
have escaped, but unfortunately there was not.

She fell to thinking of the revolver she had dropped when Yuma had
sprung upon her. It must have dropped very close to the door. Had Yuma
picked it up? There was a chance that he had not. If the weapon were
still there and she could open the door and secure it and close the door
again, she would be in a position to defend herself. She could not
defend herself without it. If Yuma should burst the door open she would
be at his mercy. She must get the revolver.

Convinced of this she stood for some little time at the door, her ear
pressed against it, listening for any sound that might tell her of the
whereabouts of Yuma in the cabin. She heard nothing. Perhaps he had
gone? But she listened a while longer, determined to be certain before
loosening the fastenings of the door. Silence--a premonitory
silence--filled the room beyond the door. She could hear nothing except
her own rapid breathing. Presently she heard a horse whinny. Was Yuma at
the horses? It seemed incredible that any man should visit the cabin
purposely to attack her. Perhaps Yuma had only intended to frighten her;
he had said that Dunlavey had told him to follow her, but she believed
that Dunlavey, in spite of his reputation for lawlessness and trickery,
was not so unmanly as to incite the half-breed to attack her. He may
have told him to steal the horses--she could believe that of him!

But for a long time, in spite of the quieting influence of these
thoughts, she kept her ear pressed against the door. Then, moved by a
sudden impulse--an accession of courage inspired by the continued
silence--she cautiously loosened the fastenings and swung the door
slowly open.

Her revolver lay close and with a swift movement she reached for it. As
her fingers grasped its butt she heard a slight sound and Yuma was upon
her from behind, pinning her arms to her sides. She felt his breath on
her neck, heard his laugh, exultant and derisive, mocking her. His right
hand, gripping hers tightly, was slipping slowly down toward the hand
that held the revolver. She struggled desperately, squirming and
twisting in his grasp, silen