ons, and looked
long at Holderness, who lay squarely in the dimming light. Then he
softly lowered himself. Hare wondered what the rustler meant to do.
Presently he again lifted his head and turned it as if listening
intently. His companions were motionless in deep-breathing sleep. Gently
he slipped aside his blankets and began to rise. He was slow and guarded
of movement; it took him long to stand erect. He stepped between the
rustlers with stockinged feet which were as noiseless as an Indian's,
and he went toward the cabin door.

He softly edged round the sleeping Holderness, showing a glinting
six-shooter in his hand. Hare's resolve to kill him before he reached
the door was checked. What did it mean, this rustler's stealthy
movements, his passing by Holderness with his drawn weapon! Again doom
hovered over the rustler chief. If he stirred!--Hare knew instantly that
this softly stepping man was a Mormon; he was true to Snap Naab, to the
woman pledged in his creed. He meant to free Mescal.

If ever Hare breathed a prayer it was then. What if one of the band
awakened! As the rustler turned at the door his dark face gleamed in
the flickering light. He unwound the lasso and opened the door without a
sound.

Hare whispered: "Heavens! if he goes in she'll scream! that will wake
Holderness--then I must shoot--I must!"

But the Mormon rustler added wisdom to his cunning and stealth.

"Hist!" he whispered into the cabin. "Hist!"

Mescal must have been awake; she must have guessed instantly the meaning
of that low whisper, for silently she appeared in the doorway, silently
she held forth her bound hands. The man untied the bonds and pointed
into the cedars toward the corral. Swift and soundless as a flitting
shadow Mescal vanished in the gloom. The Mormon stole with wary,
unhurried steps back to his bed and rolled in his blankets.

Hare rose unsteadily, wavering in the hot grip of a moment that seemed
to have but one issue--the killing of Holderness. Mescal would soon be
upon Silvermane, far out on the White Sage trail, and this time there
would be no sand-strip to trap her. But Hare could not kill the rustler
while he was sleeping; and he could not awaken him without revealing to
his men the escape of the girl. Hare stood there on the bench, gazing
down on the blanketed Holderness. Why not kill him now, ending forever
his power, and trust to chance for the rest? No, no! Hare flung the
temptation from him. To ward off p