She heard the back door close
softly, the creaking of the bed as her father lay down again, and
then a sudden splashing in the creek. Kneeling at the window, she
saw strange horsemen pushing toward the gate where one threw
himself from his saddle, strode swiftly toward the steps, and her
lips unconsciously made soft, little, inarticulate cries of joy--
for the stern, gray face under the hat of the man was the face of
John Hale. After him pushed other men--fully armed--whom he
motioned to either side of the cabin to the rear. By his side was
Bob Berkley, and behind him was a red-headed Falin whom she well
remembered. Within twenty feet, she was looking into that gray
face, when the set lips of it opened in a loud command: "Hello!"
She heard her father's bed creak again, again the rattle of the
door-chain, and then old Judd stepped on the porch with a revolver
in each hand.
"Hello!" he answered sternly.
"Judd," said Hale sharply--and June had never heard that tone from
him before--"a man with a black moustache killed one of our men
over in the Gap yesterday and we've tracked him over here. There's
his horse--and we saw him go into that door.
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