the step of the man outside. So was she ready to welcome mightily that sound which did come to her, a man's voice shouting, the rattle of pistol shots, shouts and shots mingled, and then the flying thud of shod hoofs.
"Beatrice! Beatrice! Are you all right. Oh, Beatrice!"
At the first sound she had leaped forward, trembling with excitement at the door. With the words she dropped back slowly, her hands twisting before her. … It was Embry's voice …
Embry's hands jerked away the heavy bar outside and threw the door open. It was dawning across the mountains. She could see him outlined in the pale rectangle. In the hand hanging at his side was a revolver. He was breathing heavily.
"So you have come, have you?" she said quietly.
She went back to the bunk and sat down. Her eyes, scarcely to be seen in the gloom, were steady upon him. He came forward eagerly, his hand out to her.
"Beatrice!" he cried. "They have not harmed you? Oh, Beatrice …"
She made no answer but watched him keenly. He came on to her, his hand still out.
"I followed," he said hurriedly. "Was lucky enough to get my hands on one of the men … they had trouble with their engine, thank God! … made him tell me where you were. … What is it, Beatrice? What is it?"
"Liar, Joe Embry!" she told him steadily. "Liar and gambler and crook! And cur and coward!"
