derness of snow. And so, as she
looked into the eyes of the outlaw, it seemed as though she had known
him from spring to winter, and her wish to help him grew with every hour
of their acquaintanceship.

She planned his defense before Ward and Adams. "When they know how kind
and helpful he has been they can but condone his one rash deed," she
argued in conclusion.

He was sitting at her feet, careless of time, the law, content with her
nearness, and mindful only of her comfort, when a distant rifle-shot
brought him to his feet with the swiftness of the startled stag.

"That's your expedition," he said, "or some one who needs help."

Again the shots rang out, _one_, _two_, _three_--_one_, _two_, _three_.
"It's a signal! It's your party!"

Peggy uttered a cry of joy and rushed outside, but Alice turned an
unquiet gaze on the outlaw. "You'd better fly!"

"What is the use?" he answered, bitterly. "The snow is so deep there is
no show to cross the range, and my horse is weak and hungry."

Gage appeared at the door. "Lemme take your gun, stranger; I want to
answer the signal."

"Where's your own?"

"I left it on my horse," the old man answered, sheepishly.

The young fellow looked at Alice with a keen glitter in his eyes. "I'll
make answer myself," he said; "I'm very particular about my barkers."

Alice, as she heard his revolver's answering word leap into the silent
air and bound and rebound along the cliffs, was filled with a sudden
fear that the sheriff might be guided back by the sound--and this indeed
the fugitive himself remarked as he came back to his seat beside her.

"If he's anywhere on this side of the divide he'll sure come back. But
I've done my best. The Lord God Almighty has dropped the snow down here
and shut me in with you, and I'm not complaining."

There was no answer to be made to this fatalism of utterance, and none
to the worship of his eyes.

"Lift me up!" commanded Alice; "I want to look out and see if I can see
anybody."

The outlaw took her in his arms, supporting her in the threshold in
order that she might see over the vast sea of white. But no human being
was to be seen.

"Take me back--inside," Alice said to the man who had her in his arms.
"I feel cold here."

Once again, and with a feeling that it was, perhaps, for the last time,
he carried her back to her bench and re-enveloped her in her blankets.

"Stay here with me now," she whispered to him, as she looked up into his