about the depot to ask them any
questions, and they crossed the track to the straggling street apparently
on good terms with each other, though four of them knew that unpleasant
results would follow any attempt at a dash for liberty. In answer to
Grant's knock, a man let them into one of the stores.

"I guess we'll lock them in the back store until morning," he said, after
a short conference apart with Grant. "A little cooling down is not going
to do them much harm, and I don't think anyone could get out without an
axe."

The building looked secure and, when food and hot coffee had been served
them, Grant retired to rest. He slept soundly, and it was close on
daylight when a pounding on the door awakened him.

"I guess you had better get up at once," their host called.

A few minutes later Grant and Breckenridge went downstairs with him, and
the storekeeper, opening a door, lifted the lamp he held and pointed to an
open window in the roof. A barrel, with a box or two laid upon it, stood
suggestively beneath it.

Breckenridge glanced at Larry, and saw a curious little smile on his face.
"Yes," he said, "it's quite simple. Now, I never saw that window. Where
would they be likely to head for?"

"Pacific Slope," said the storekeeper. "Wages are high just now, and they
seemed quite afraid of you. The west-bound fast freight stopped here for
water about two hours ago, and it was snowing that thick nobody would see
them getting into a box car. They heave a few dry goods out here
occasionally."

Breckenridge turned to Grant. "You seem relieved."

"Yes," said Grant, with a little shake of his shoulders. "If they have lit
out of the country it will content me. I have had quite enough hard things
to do lately."

A sudden thought struck Breckenridge. "You didn't mean--" he said with a
shudder.

"I didn't mean to let them go, but I'm glad they've gone," Grant answered.
"We made a warning of one of the cattle-barons' men, and the man who takes
the law into his own hands is doubly bound to do the square thing all
round. If he does less, he is piling up a bigger reckoning than I would
care to face."

XXV

CHEYNE RELIEVES HIS FEELINGS

A blustering wind moaned outside the lonely building, and the stove
snapped and crackled as the chilly draughts swept into the hall at Cedar
Range. Jackson Cheyne had arrived on horseback in the creeping dusk an
hour or two earlier, after spending most of four nights and days in t