ng
straight ahead, as if he expected the enemy to approach only from the
front; as if he had no thought of treachery. His figure was relaxed
wearily. His face was drawn. But his eyes--like the other's--were
strangely luminous.

_Ah!_--the figure was creeping toward him--noiselessly--step by step!

"Go in! Go in! _Daddy!_"

The cry was torn from her, though she strove to keep it back. The strain
of the past night and day was telling. Frantically, she begged Ben and
Betty to hasten. Knowing home was not far, they obeyed her voice, and,
presently, were setting back in their collars to block the descent of
the wagon; were splashing through the backwater at the coulee-crossing,
and jerking their load out upon the level. Eastward, the shack stood out
dimly in the starlight. They made for it at a trot.

But all at once they stopped, and began stepping this way and that, as
if ready to leap the tongue. Dallas and Marylyn recoiled, forsaking the
seat for the shelter of the box.

There was a moment's wait, in a stillness as vast as the prairie. The
mules, sidled to the left, shifted their long ears nervously. The girls
listened, the younger shielded by the elder's arms.

Then, across the bend, from the deserted houses of Shanty Town, sounded
the long, soul-chilling howl of a dog.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE SPIRIT OF THE FRONTIER

A broken crutch lying close to the shack on the river side, a
blood-bespattered pane in the window just above, a rifle ball, embedded
deep at a gun's length beyond the pane--these were the traces that, on
the following morning, gave an inkling of a deadly clash.

Squaw Charley found them, when the day was yet so young that no human
eyes, save those of an Indian, could have used its scanty light. Four
raps upon the warped door had brought no answer. Loudly repeated, they
had set the wooden latch to shaking lonesomely. Mistrustful, he had
entered and groped about the dark room. Table and benches were in place.
The blankets hung before the bunk. To one side, rolled up neatly, was
the mattress upon which Dallas and Marylyn slept. But nothing else met
his expectant hand and foot. Next, he had visited the lean-to, where he
felt his way carefully from stall to stall, discovering no occupant.
Then, he had gone out to pry around the yard. And lit upon the marks
that told of the struggle.

The absence of the wagon was a clue. He stole along the out-going
tracks, between which, small, circular and cle