She screamed—­once—­twice—­with the full power of her lungs.  And then Slade savagely brought a big hand over her mouth and held it there.  She fought to escape the clutch, kicking, squirming—­trying to bite the hand.  But to no avail.  The terrible pressure on her mouth was suffocating her, and the room went dark as she continued to fight.  She thought Slade had extinguished the light, and she was conscious of a dull curiosity over how he had done it.  And then sound seem to cease.  She felt nothing, saw nothing, heard nothing.  She was conscious only of that terrible pressure over her mouth and nose.  And finally she ceased to feel even that.

CHAPTER XL

PRIMITIVE INSTINCTS

Shorty and a dozen Circle L men—­among them Blackburn and the three others who had been wounded in the fight with the rustlers on the plains the previous spring—­had been waiting long in a gully at a distance of a mile or more from the Hamlin cabin.  Shortly after dark they had filed into the gully, having come directly from the Circle L.

Hours before, they had got off their horses to stretch their legs, and to wait.  And now they had grown impatient.  It was cold—­even in the gulley where the low moaning, biting wind did not reach them—­and they knew they could have no fire.

“Hell!” exclaimed one man, intolerantly; “I reckon she’s a whizzer!”

“Looks a heap like it,” agreed Shorty.  “Seems, if Hamlin couldn’t get him headed this way—­like he said he would—­he ought to let us know.”

“You reckon Hamlin’s runnin’ straight, now?” inquired Blackburn.

“Straight as a die!” declared Shorty.  “If you’d been trailin’ him like me an’ the boys has, you’d know it.  Trouble is, that Singleton is holdin’ off.  A dozen times we’ve been close enough to ketch Singleton with the goods—­if he’d do the brandin’.  But he don’t, an’ Hamlin has to do it—­with Singleton watchin’.  We’ve framed up on him a dozen times.  But he lets Hamlin run the iron on ’em.  Hamlin eased that bunch into the gully just ahead, especial for tonight.  I helped him drive ’em.  An’ Hamlin said that tonight he’d refuse to run the iron on ’em—­makin’ Singleton do it.  An’ then we’d ketch him doin’ it.  But I reckon Hamlin’s slipped up somewheres.”

“It ain’t none comfortable here, with that wind whinin’ that vicious,” complained a cowboy.  “An’ no fire.  Hamlin said ten o’clock, didn’t he?  It’s past eleven.”

“It’s off, I reckon,” said Shorty.  “Let’s fan it to Hamlin’s shack an’ say somethin’ to him.”

Instantly the outfit was on the move.  With Shorty leading they swept out of the gully to the level and rode northward rapidly.

When they came in sight of the Hamlin cabin there was no light within, and the men sat for a time on their horses, waiting and listening.  Then, when it seemed certain there was no one stirring, Shorty glanced at the horse corral.