here in the heart of this desert? Why built with
such evident intent of concealment? But for what had occurred on the
plateau above, his suspicions would never have been aroused. This was
already becoming a cattle country; adventurous Texans, seeking free
range and abundant water, had advanced along all these prominent
streams with their grazing herds of long-horns. Little by little they
had gained precarious foothold on the Indian domains, slowly forcing
the savages westward. The struggle had been continuous for years, and
the final result inevitable. Yet this year the story had been a
different one, for the united tribes had swept the invading stockmen
back, had butchered their cattle, and once again roamed these plains as
masters. Hamlin knew this; he had met and talked with those driven
out, and he was aware that even now Black Kettle's winter camp of
hostiles was not far away. This hut might, of course, be the deserted
site of some old cow camp, some outrider's shack, but--the fellow who
fired on them! He was a reality--a dangerous reality--and he was
hiding somewhere close at hand.

The Sergeant stole along the front to the door, listening intently for
any warning sound from either without or within. Every nerve was on
edge; all else forgotten except the intensity of the moment. He could
perceive nothing to alarm him, no evidence of any presence inside.
Slowly, noiselessly, his Colt poised for instant action, he lifted the
wooden latch, and permitted the door to swing slightly ajar, yielding a
glimpse within. There was light from above, flittering dimly through
some crevice in the bluff, and the darker shadows were reddened by the
cheery glow of a fireplace directly opposite, although where the smoke
disappeared was not at first evident. Hamlin perceived these features
at a glance, standing motionless. His quick eyes visioned the whole
interior--a rude table and bench, a rifle leaning in one corner, a
saddle and trappings hanging against the wall; a broad-brimmed hat on
the floor, a pile of skins beyond. There was an appearance of neatness
also, the floor swept, the table unlittered. Yet he scarcely realized
these details at the time so closely was his whole attention centred on
the figure of a man. The fellow occupied a stool before the fireplace,
and was bending slightly forward, staring down at the red embers,
unconscious of the intruder. He was a thin-chested, unkempt individual
with long ha