groping for light in strange environs of the spirit.
"Are you hurt?" Original asked.
"No," she answered hardly above a breath.
A long sigh sounded behind him. Original whirled in time to see the gaunt tower of bone that was Timberline Todd slowly buckle and come slipping down by the window frame. His head as it fell back showed a round red spot just over the eyes. One gnarled hand fluttered for an instant as it touched the floor. It was as if Timberline were waving good-by.
"Old friend—old friend," Original muttered chokingly as he placed Timberline's battered hat over his face. Then with Hilma's rifle and three full boxes of cartridges he took his place at the chink in the logs close to the floor. The slow siege went on, odds ten to one.
Hilma, lying on her bound hands in the dark bunk, heard the slow, steady pound of Original's rifle as it spoke defiance through the dreary hours. Though she could not see the sprawling figure of the cabin's lone defender because of the barricade he had piled to protect her, her mind visualized him a giant speaking with thunderous voice,—a giant beset by
