The Winslow mail., 1913-07-19
CHAPTER vIIl.-continued.

He could feel her breathing, and
realized the danger of her return to
consciousness. II she should be fright
ened and cry out, their fate would be
sealed. Yet he must accept the chance,
now that he knew the way to be clear.
He held her tightly in both arms, his
revolver thrust back into it's holster.
Bending as low as he could with his
burden, feeling carefully through the
darkness before advancing a foot, he
moved steadily forward Where the
gully deepened their heads were at
the edge of the bank, but much of the
way was exposed, except for the dark
shadows of the slope. Fortunately
there were clouds to the west, already
obscuring that half Of the sky, but to
the east nothing was visible against
the faint luminousness of the skyline
Once, far over there to the left, gun
was fired, the flame splitting the night
asunder, and against the distant re-
fection a black figure rose up be-
tween, only to be instantly snuffed out
again. Hamlin put down his uplifted
foot, and waited, in tense, motionless
silence. but nothing happened, except
the echo of far-away voice.
A dozen feet farther, some four
footed animal suddenly leaped to the
edge of the bank, shifted, and disap-
peared noiselessly. So taut were his
nerves strung that the Sergeant sank
upon his knees, releasing one hand to
grip his revolver, before he realized
the cause Of alarm-some prowling
prairie wolf. Then, with teeth grim
ly locked, bending lower and lower,
he crept across the rutted trail, and
past the dead body of the Indian. Not
until then did he dare to breathe nat
urally or to stand upright; but now,
the gully, bending to the right, led
away from danger, every step gained
adding to their safety. He was conf
dent now, full of his old audacity, yet
awake to every trick of plainscraft.
The girls head rested against his
shoulder, and he bent his cheek to
hers, feeling it's warmth The touch
of his unshaven beard pricked her in
to semi-consciousness and she spoke
so loud that it gave him a thrill of ap-
prehension. He dared not run in the
darkness for fear Of stumbling, yet
moved with greater swiftness. until
the depression ended at the river.
Here, under the protection Of the
bank, Hamlin put down his burden
and stood erect, stretching his
strained muscles and staring back in
to the dark.
What now? Which way should they
turn? He had accomplished all he had
planned for himself back there in the
coach, but now he became aware of
other problems awaiting solution. In
less than an hour it would be day
light; he almost imagined it was light
er already over yonder in the east.
With the first dawn those watchful
Indians, creeping cautiously closer.
would discover the stage deserted, and
would be on their trail And they had
left trail easily followed Perhaps
the hard, dry ground might confuse
those savage trackers, but they would
scour the open country between bluff
and river, and find the dead warrior in
LAS 4AdI WOulU tSll Iu6 SCOTY.
To go west, along the edge of the
river, wading in the water, would be
useless precaution; such trick would
be suspected at once, and there was
no possibility of rescue from that di-
rection. They might as we'll walk
open-eyed into trap. There was but
one hope, one opportunity-to cross
the stream before dawn came and
hide among those shifting sand-dunes
of the opposite shore Hamlin thor
oughly understood the risk involved,
the treacherous nature of the Arkan-
sas, the possibility that both might be
sucked down by engulfng quicksand,
yet even such a lonely death was pre-
ferable to Indian torture.
The girl at his feet stirred and
moaned. In another moment he had
filled his hat with water from the riv-