“That ’s it; that’s the name he took when he sold the cattle.”

“The officer robbed and killed was Major McDonald, and it is his daughter they hold.  The fellow Dupont quarrelled with and shot was a deserter named Connors.  We found the body.  Now where do you suppose Le Fevre is?”

Hughes stared into the fire, nervously pulling his beard.

“Wall, I ’d say in west yere somewhar along the Cimarron.  ’T ain’t likely he had a compass, an’ the wind wus from the nor’east.  Best they could do, the ponies would drift.  The Injuns would keep the gineral direction, o’ course, storm ‘er no storm, an’ Gene is some plainsman himself, but thet blizzard would sheer ’em off all the same.  I reckon they ‘re under the banks ten mile, er more, up thar.  An’ soon as there ’s a change in weather, they ’ll ride fer Black Kettle’s camp.  Thet’s my guess, mister.”

Hamlin turned the situation over deliberately in his mind, satisfied that Hughes had reviewed the possibilities correctly.  If Le Fevre’s party had got through at all, then that was the most likely spot for them to be hiding in.  They would have drifted beyond doubt, farther than Hughes supposed, probably, as he had been sheltered from the real violence of the wind as it raged on the open plain.  They might be fifteen, even twenty miles away, and so completely drifted in as to be undiscoverable except through accident.  What course then was best to pursue?  The storm was likely to continue violent for a day, perhaps two days longer.  His horses were exhausted, and Carroll helpless.  It might not even be safe to leave the latter alone.  Yet if the frozen man could be left in the hut to take care of himself and the ponies, would there be any hope of success in an effort to proceed up the river on foot?  He could make Hughes go—­that was n’t the difficulty—­but probably they could n’t cover five miles a day through the snowdrifts.  And, even if they did succeed in getting through in time to intercept the fugitives, the others would possess every advantage—­both position for defense, and horses on which to escape.  Hughes, lighting his pipe, confident now in his own mind that he was personally safe, seemed to sense the problem troubling the Sergeant.

“I reckon I know this yere kintry well ’nough,” he said lazily, “ter give yer a pointer er two.  I ‘ve rounded up long-horns west o’ yere.  Them fellers ain’t goin’ to strike out fer the Canadian till after the storm quits.  By thet time yer ponies is rested up in better shape than theirs will be, and we kin strike ’cross to the sou’west.  We ’re bound either to hit ’em, or ride ’cross thar trail.”

“But the woman!” protested Hamlin, striding across the floor.  “What may happen to her in the meanwhile?  She is an Eastern girl, unaccustomed to this life,—­a—­a lady.”

“Yer don’t need worry none ’bout thet.  Ef she ’s the right kind she ‘ll stan’ more ’n a man when she has to.  I reckon it won’t be none too pleasant ‘long with Gene an’ them Cheyenne bucks, but if she ’s pulled through so far, thar ain’t nuthin’ special goin’ ter happen till they git to the Injun camp.”