s, what, in the name of Heaven, are you standing there for?
Perhaps you would like to have me stir you up. I will if those horses
are not here in ten minutes."

The cowman, muffled to the ears in a buffalo coat, plunged profanely
into the drift, slamming the door behind him. Hamlin hastily glanced
over the few articles piled in readiness on the bench--ammunition,
blankets, food--paying no heed to Carroll's muttering of discontent.
By the time Hughes returned, he had everything strapped for the
saddles. He thrust the cowman's rifle under his own flap, but handed
the latter a revolver, staring straight into his eyes as he did so.

"I reckon you and I have got enough in common in this chase to play
square," he said grimly. "We 're both out after Le Fevre, ain't we?"

"You bet."

"All right, then; here 's your gun. If you try any trickery, Hughes, I
'd advise that you get me the first shot, for if you miss you 'll never
have another."

The man drew the sleeve of his coat over his lips, his eyes shifting
before the Sergeant's steady gaze.

"I ain't thet sort," he muttered uneasily. "Yer don't need to think
thet o' me."

"Maybe not," and Hamlin swung into the saddle carelessly. "Only I
thought I 'd tell you beforehand what would happen if you attempt any
fool gun-play. Take the lead, you know the trail."

Carroll, supporting himself by the table, crept across to the door and
watched them, reckless as to the entering cold. The glare of the white
snow revealed clearly the outlines of the disappearing horsemen, as
they rode cautiously down the bank. The thin fringe of shore ice broke
under the weight of the ponies' hoofs, as the riders forced them
forward into the icy water. A moment later the two crept up the sharp
incline of the opposite shore, appearing distinct against the sky as
they attained the summit. Hamlin waved his hand, and then, on a lope,
the figures vanished into the gloom. Crying, and swearing at his
helplessness, the deserted soldier closed the door, and crept back
shivering into his blankets.

Hughes turned his horse's head to the southwest, and rode steadily
forward, the buffalo overcoat giving him a shaggy, grotesque appearance
in the spectral light reflected from the snow. Without a word Hamlin
followed, a pace behind. Their route lay for the first few miles
across a comparatively level plateau, over which the fierce wind of the
late storm had swept with such violence as to leave th