, in readiness,
and moved cautiously over toward Hughes.

"Deader than a door-nail," he muttered, pressing back the buffalo coat,
and staring contemptuously down into the white, staring face. "I
wonder how that coward ever happened to be here--laying out for me, I
reckon!"

He straightened up and laughed, glancing furtively about.

"Some good joke that. The whole outfit cleaned out, and me twenty
thousand to the good," feeling inside his coat to make sure. "It 's
there all right. Well, good-bye, boys, there don't seem to be nothing
here for me to stay for."

He caught the straying pony and swung up into the saddle, glanced about
once more at the motionless figures, and finally rode off up the ridge,
unconsciously following the tracks left by the fleeing Indian. If the
girl ever occurred to him, he gave no sign of remembrance, and she
uttered no word. Lying on her side, her eyes wide open, she watched
him ride away, across the barren space, until the slow-moving pony
topped the ridge, and disappeared on the other side. Twice the man
turned and glanced back into the valley, but saw nothing except the
black blotches on the snow. Molly made no motion, no outcry. She
preferred death there alone, rather than rescue at his hands. Scarcely
conscious, feeling no strength in her limbs, no hope pulsing at her
heart, she closed her eyes and lay still. Yet wrapped about as she
was, her young body remained warm, and the very disappearance of Dupont
yielded a sense of freedom, awoke a strong desire to live. Her eyes
opened again, despairingly, and gazed across the barren expanse. She
could see Hamlin lying face downward, the yellow lining of his cavalry
cape over his head. It seemed to her the man's foot moved. Could she
be dreaming? No! He actually drew up one limb.

This evidence that the Sergeant still lived gave her fresh strength and
renewed determination. She struggled to move her own feet; the left
was free, but the right was caught firmly beneath the pony. She
struggled desperately, forgetful of pain, in the faith that she might
save Hamlin. Little by little she worked the imprisoned limb free,
only to find it numb and helpless. She lay there breathless, conscious
that she ached from head to foot. Beyond her the Sergeant groaned and
turned partially over upon his side. Tugging at the blanket she
managed to free one arm, gripped the mane of the dead pony, and drew
herself into a sitting posture. No