s time I knew
his delicate tread. He crossed the room and looked at me for a while,
bending low down to listen to my breathing. I did not stir nor open my
eyes and after a time he went again to the door and announced in a
carefully guarded voice, "He's asleep all right enough."

There was no reply, so my straining ears, seeking to do duty also for
the eyes I dared not open, could make no identification, but my face was
turned toward the door and some inner sense declared to me with
insistent conviction that the silent visitor was no other than the
county judge himself. Finally Dawson turned and I counted his steps
until they stopped, as I presumed, at his companion's side. At that
juncture, and with infinite caution I stole a momentary peep between
closely drawn lids, and the brief glimpse revealed the broad back and
shoulders of the man who had so affably chatted with us at the store on
the day when Weighborne and myself had arrived. Even in so cursory a
survey, I knew that I was taking a decided risk, but it seemed
necessary.

My room never had more than a half-light, which filtered through shutter
slats so slanted that I could see nothing between them save the sky and
a few stark sycamore branches. Consequently I lay in comparative
darkness while they were etched against the full light of the partly
open door. Now, should I regain my liberty--a thing highly improbable--I
could testify that Garvin himself had knowledge of my imprisonment.

Outside my door there was silence and I told myself that they were
listening. My simulated sleeping breath stole out to them and reassured
them, for finally I heard Garvin's low voice. "That's the man," he said.
"Just keep him here till I let you know what to do." Then their
descending footsteps on the stairs drowned the words and I was once more
alone.

The next day Dawson and his understrapper, "Bud," whose last name I had
never learned, permitted me to accompany them to the lower floor of the
house and a somewhat larger measure of freedom.

Among the many activities of his young life, Mr. Dawson had at one time
enjoyed that expression of public confidence which is dear to the
mountain man. He had held office as a deputy sheriff. That honor had
been short-lived, but as a memento of his days of power he retained a
very good pair of heavy nickeled handcuffs, and when I was made free of
the lower floor these ornaments adorned my wrists. The connecting chain
was long enough to g