“The cabin, Sakewawin!” she exclaimed with sudden inspiration.  “It has a strong bar at the door, and the clay has fallen in places from between the logs leaving openings through which you can shoot!”

He was examining Nisikoos’ rifle.

“At 150 yards it should be good for a man,” he said.  “You get Tara and the pack inside, Marge.  I’m going to try to get two or three of our friends as they come up over the knoll down there.  They won’t be looking for bullets this early in the game and I’ll have them at a disadvantage.  If I’m lucky enough to get Hauck and Brokaw....”

His eyes had selected a big rock twenty yards from the cabin from which he could overlook the slope to the first dip below them, and as Marge darted from him to get Tara into the cabin he crouched behind the boulder and waited.  He figured that it was not more than 150 yards to the point where their pursuers would first appear, and he made up his mind that he would wait until they were nearer than that before he opened fire.  Not one of those eleven precious cartridges must be wasted, for he could count on Hauck’s revolver only at close quarters.  It was no longer a time for doubt or indecision.  Brokaw and Hauck were deliberately pushing the fight to a finish, and not to beat them meant death for himself and a fate for the Girl which made him grip his rifle more tightly as he waited.  He looked behind him and saw Marge leading Tara into the cabin.  Baree had crept up beside him and lay flat on the ground close to the rock.  A moment or two later the Girl reappeared and ran across the narrow open space to David, and crouched down close to him.

“You must go into the cabin, Marge,” he remonstrated.  “They will probably begin shooting....”

“I’m going to stay with you, Sakewawin.”

Her face was no longer white.  A flush had risen into her cheeks, her eyes shone as she looked at him—­and she smiled.  A child!  His heart rose chokingly in his throat.  Her face was close to his, and she whispered: 

“Last night I kissed you, Sakewawin.  I thought you were dying.  Before you, I have kissed Nisikoos.  Never any one else.”

Why did she say that, with that wonderful glow in her eyes?  Couldn’t be that she saw death climbing up the mountain?  Was it because she wanted him to know—­before that?  A child!

She whispered again: 

“And you—­have never kissed me, Sakewawin.  Why?”

Slowly he drew her to him, until her head lay against his breast, her shining eyes and parted lips turned up to him, and he kissed her on the mouth.  A wild flood of colour rushed into her face and her arms crept up about his shoulders.  The glory of her radiant hair covered his breast.  He buried his face in it, and for a moment crushed her so close that she did not breathe.  And then again he kissed her mouth, not once but a dozen times, and then held her back from him and looked into her face that was no longer the face of a child, but of a woman.