himself slipped in between chilly sheets. In the meantime, a pair of massive fingers closed over his wrist.
"He'll come along all right," said the deep voice after a moment. "Lucky it wasn't higher. Lucky it didn't hit the bone. Men of this generation don't know how to handle guns any more. No sense for 'em. Don't mean to hurt your feelin's, my young friend. By the way, my name's Moore, Roger Moore."
"My name is Jack Chandler and this is Louis Angus."
"Glad to know you. He ain't one of the Barr County Angus family, is he?"
"Might be related. I dunno."
"No, he ain't got bone enough to be one of 'em. Well, son, lucky you landed here. And you're welcome as long as you'll stay, and that'll be ten days anyway before he's on his feet. Come on in, Kate. Meet Jack Chandler. This is my daughter. Put that basin down over here, Kate. There's a good girl. Nothin' to be white about. The gent ain't goin' to die. Got a .45 through the calf of his leg, though. Was it a .45?"
"A .32," said Jack Chandler.
"What! Never seen a .32 tear things up like that, but bullets are as tricky as guns. Never know what they'll do. Look at that scar on my wrist. Bullet went in there, twisted clean around my forearm, and come out by the elbow. Didn't break a bone or tear a tendon and my arm was as good as ever inside three weeks. That's one of the queer things a bullet'll do. Luck, eh? Hello! He's comin' to!"
Alp had felt a covert nudge from the knee of his companion and he took it as a signal to open his eyes. He did it very well. First he blinked. Then he glared up at the ceiling and murmured: "It's all right, Jack. You couldn't help it."
"Delirious a little," muttered the deep voice.
Alp sat bolt upright in the bed and stared wildly around him. "What the devil!" he exclaimed.
His words met a pleased chuckle from half a dozen faces, and each with shining, kindly eyes.
"The snow," said Lou vaguely, rubbing his eyes. "The wind... I..."
A silver-haired woman with a youthful, beautiful face came beside him and laid her hand gently on his shoulder.
"You lie down, my boy," she said. "The snow and the wind and the trouble are all left outside. And now we're goin' to take care of you."
He allowed himself to be pressed back into the bed, but still his eyes went the rounds of the room. He saw Jack Chapel standing over him, his face grave with well-simulated trouble. He saw behind the woman the owner of the deep, bass voice. From the hand and the voice, he had expected a giant. Instead, he saw a stubby fellow, middle-aged, with a prodigious pair of shoulders and a not over large head set between them. His arms were very long, and the hands in exact proportion to the shoulders. Yet the small face which topped off this clumsy body was so filled with energy and penetration that Lou Alp forgot the lack of proportion.
Rattling at the fireplace at one side of the big bedroom was evidently a woman servant, and close to her stood a girl with sunny hair and earnest blue eyes, still darkened with the shadow of her recent fright. Her head was framed by the snow-crusted window beyond, and against that cold background the brown of her hair seemed golden and the olive skin took on tints of rich life. Upon Lou Alp she broke as light breaks upon deep darkness. Only the knee of Jack Chapel, striking his ribs, made him rouse himself enough to turn his glance.
"You'll have this room to yourself," the rancher was saying to Alp. "And you can take that smaller room next door, Mister Chandler. I suppose you'll want to be handy to your partner, eh? That way he can call you plumb easy."
He accepted the thanks which Jack Chapel proffered with a negligent wave of his massive arm.
"It ain't a thing," he said. "We're glad to have you. Lonely life we lead out here. Need company. Take Kate in particular, over there. She gets blue from bein' alone so much. Don't blame her. You try to cheer her up and I'll thank you for it."
The girl flushed and parted her lips to protest, but her father, laughing uproariously, drove her and the others out of the room.
"You boys make yourselves to home," he said from the door. "I'll see that you're kept quiet. If you need anything, just holler. We chow in about half an hour. We'll send up some broth and chicken for Mister Angus. S'long, boys."
He banged the door after him and went down the hall with a thunderous step.
The moment he was assured that there was no danger of being overheard, Lou Alp cried: "Did you see?"
His companion turned moodily. "See what?"
"The girl!"
"Huh?"
"The girl, blockhead!"
"Forget the girl."
Chapel began to pace the floor slowly. Once he stopped and kicked at the fire so that a shower of sparks went snapping up the chimney.
"Don't cuss women," said Alp, his face darkening. He was a good-looking fellow in his lean, dark way but, when he frowned, his face became savage to the point of venom.
"Cuss women?" said the other with a start. "Who cussed them? I didn't mean to."
"What a girl," sighed Alp. He looked hungrily at Chapel but, seeing that he could not confide in the larger man, he changed the topic reluctantly. "I guess we landed on our feet well enough."
"I guess we did."
"You don't seem terrible cheerful about it."
"Maybe I don't," growled Chapel.
"What's wrong?"
"They're clean," said Jack. He straightened, and took a deep breath. "They're clean!"
The sneak thief gathered the bed clothes a little closer around his throat. "But ain't... ain't you clean yourself, Jack? Wasn't it a frame that put you in jail?"
There was a sort of acid eagerness in his query, a bitter longing to hold his head as high as his companion's.
"I s'pose I'm all right," said the big man dubiously. "But I've been in jail, and I bring the scent of it with me. I've been in the shadow, and now I don't feel right. Understand?"
The thief merely stared. His mind came near enough to comprehension to be disturbed, but no more.
In the meantime Jack Chapel paced up and down the floor thoughtfully. "Did you notice their eyes?" he kept repeating "Nothing behind them. Did you notice their eyes? Straight as a string. You can look a mile into eyes like that. Nothing to hide in 'em."
"What have you got to hide?" asked Lou, rather viciously.
"Nothin' much. I'm just a supposed murderer and an uncaught highway robber. I'm a jail breaker and a bum. Outside of them little things, I guess the doctor'll give me a clean bill of health."
He began to laugh in an ugly manner. Then the laughter broke off short, and he stood beside the fire with his elbow resting on the mantel. Over his downcast face the light tossed up bursts of yellow and bursts of red. It made the lines deeper and the strong jaw became a cruel, dominant feature. Lou Alp, looking on, saw as from a distance there was some inner struggle going on in the man. But he did not speak.
