aguely through the darkness came the faint brawl of tiny cataracts
tumbling down far mountain heights. De Spain, lying on his side, his
head resting on his elbow, and his hands clasped at the back of his
neck, meditated first on how he should capture Sassoon at daybreak,
and then on Nan Morgan and her mountain home, into which he was about
to break to drag out a criminal. Sassoon and his malice soon drifted
out of his mind, but Nan remained. She stayed with him, it seemed, for
hours--appearing and disappearing, in one aspect more alluring than
another. Then her form outlined in the mists that rose from the
hidden creek seemed to hover somewhere near until Scott's hand laid on
the dreamer's shoulder drove it suddenly away. Day was at hand.

De Spain got up and shook off the chilliness and drowsiness of the
night. It had been agreed that he, being less known in the Gap than
either of his companions, could best attempt the difficult capture. It
was strictly a _coup de main_, depending for its success on chance and
nerve. The one that tried it might manage to bring out his man--or
might be brought out himself. Between these alternatives there was not
much middle ground, except that failing to find Sassoon, or in case he
should be intercepted with his prisoner, the intruder, escaping
single-handed from a shower of bullets, might still get away. But
Morgan's Gap men were esteemed fairly good marksmen.

Bob Scott, who knew the recess well, repeated his explicit directions
as to how de Spain was to reach Sassoon's shack. He repeated his
description of its interior, told him where the bed stood, and even
where Sassoon ordinarily kept his knife and his revolver. The western
sky was still dark when de Spain, mounting, discussed the last
arrangements with his scouts and, taking the bridle of the led horse,
turned toward Round Top. At its narrowest point the Gap opening is
barely two miles wide, and the one road, in and out, lies among the
rocks through this neck; toward it all trails inside the Gap converge.
De Spain gave his horse his head--it was still too dark to distinguish
the path--and depended on his towering landmarks for his general
direction. He advanced at a snail's pace until he passed the base of
El Capitan, when of a sudden, as he rode out from among high
projecting rocks full into the opening, faint rays of light from the
eastern dawn revealed the narrow, strangely enclosed and perfectly
hidden valley before him. Th