The citizen., 1913-08-22
CHAPTER XVI.
Unseen DANCER.

Unseen Danger.
Once he paused, blinded by the
snow. flung up his arm. and fired.
imagining he saw the dim shape of a
man on the ridge summit. There was
no return shot, no visible movement.
Reckless, mad with rage, he sprang
up the wind-swept side, and reached
the crest. 1t was deserted, except for
tracks already nearly obliterated by
the fierce wind Helpless, baffled, the
Sergeant stared about him into the
driving fakes. his ungloved, stiffen-
ing hand gripping the cold butt of
his Colt, ready for any emergency
Nothing but vacancy and silence en-
compassed him. At his feet the snow
was still trampled; he could see
where the man had kneeled to fire.
where he had run down the opposite
side of the hill. There had been only
one-a white man from the imprint
and he had fed south, vanishing in
the smother
1t required an effort for the Ser
geant to recover. to realize his true
position, and the meaning of this mys-
terious attack He was no longer
numb with cold or staggering from
weakness. The excitement had sent
the hot blood pulsing through his
veins; had brought back to his heart
the fighting instinct Every desire
urged him forward, clamoring for re-
venge, but the aroused sense of a
plainsman held him motionless, star
ing about, listening for any sound. Be-
hind him, down there in the hollow,
were huddled the horses of his out
fit, scarcely distinguishable from
where he stood If he should venture
farther off, he might never be able
to find way back again. Even in the
gray light of dawn he could see moth
ing distinctly a dozen yards distant,
And Wasson had the compass. This
was the thought which brought him
tramping back through the drifts
Wasson Wade was dead. Carroll
little better, but the scout might have
been only slightly wounded. He wad'
ed through the snow to where the
man lay. face downward, his face still
gripping the rein. Before Hamlin
turned him over, he saw the jagged
wound and knew death had been in
stantaneous He stared down at the
white face, already powdered with
snow; then glared about into the
murky distances, revolver ready for
action, every nerve throbbing. God!
If he ever met the murderer! Then
swift reaction came, and he buried his
eyes on the neck of the nearest horse,
and his body shook with half-sup-
pressed sobs. The whole horror or II
gripped him in that instant, broke his
iron will, and left him weak as child.
But the mood did not last. Little
by little he gained control. stood up
again In the snow. and began to
think. He was a man, and must do
a mans work. With an oath he forced
himself to act; reloaded his revolver,
thrust 1t back into the holster at his
hip, and, with one parting glance at
poor Sam, plowed across through the
drifts to Carroll. He realized now his
duty, the thing he must strive to ac-
complish. Wade and Wasson were
gone: no human effort could aid them,
but Carroll lived, and might be saved.
And It was for him alone now to serve
Molly. The sudden comprehension OF
all this stung like the lash OF whip,
transformed him again into hghter,
a soldier of the sort who refuses to
acknowledge defeat. His eyes dark
ened. his lips pressed together In a
straight line.
Carroll lay helpless, inert. his head
hanging down against the neck OF his
horse. The Sergeant jerked him erect,
roughly beating him into conscious
ness; nor did he desist until the fel-
lows eyes opened in a dull stare.
"Ill pound the life out OF you unless
you brace up, George" he muttered.
"That's right-get mad II you want to.
It will do you no good. Wait until ]
get that quirt; that will set your blood
moving. No! Wake up! Die. moth
ing! See here, man, there's the river
Just ahead"