should have
taken her out at that hour. She says she needed air and a walk, but why
should she have chosen the back-gate and the alley as a way to air and
sunshine?"

"Would you mind taking me through that way?" asked the engineer
suddenly. "It's the short cut to the depot, I understand."

"Why, certainly. I hadn't thought of that," said Folsom. "Come right
on."

And so, while the hoof-beats up the road grew louder, the two turned
quickly back to the rear of the big frame house. "That coming horse
brings news," muttered Loring to himself, as he turned the corner. "We
can head him off, but I want to see this situation first."

Looking away southeastward from the porch of Folsom's homestead, one
could see in the daytime a vista of shingled roofs and open yards, a
broad valley, with a corral and inclosures on the southern edge of the
town, but not a tree. To-night only dim black shadows told where roof
and chimney stood, and not a sign could they see of the depot. Loring
curiously gazed aloft at the rear and side windows of the third story.
"They command quite a view, I suppose," said he, and even as he spoke
the sash of the southeast room was softly raised, the blind swung
slightly outward. That woman watching and listening again! And it was
she whose sudden and startling appearance at the rear gate had led to
Folsom's throw so early the morning Burleigh and his mysterious friend
were found missing from their quarters just after dawn--the very morning
Dean, with his treasure package and little escort, rode forth from Emory
on that perilous mission--the very morning that Birdsall and his
murderous gang set forth from Gate City in pursuit.

And now those hoof-beats up the road were coming closer, and Folsom,
too, could hear and was listening, even while studying Loring's face.
Suddenly a faint gleam shot across the darkness overhead. Glancing
quickly upward, both men, deep in shadow, saw that the eastern window on
the southern side was lighted up. Out in the alleyway, low yet clear, a
whistle sounded--twice. Then came cautious footsteps down the back
stairs. The bolt of the rear door was carefully drawn. A woman's form,
tall and shrouded in a long cloak, came swiftly forth and sped down the
garden walk to that rear gate. "Come on, quick!" murmured the engineer,
and on tiptoe, wondering, the two men followed. They saw her halt at the
barred gate. Low, yet distinct she spoke a single name: "George!" And
without, in the