It was two hours later, when she was waltzing with Jed again, that Arlie caught sight of a face that disturbed her greatly. It was a countenance disfigured by a ragged scar, running from the bridge of the nose. She had last seen it gazing into the window of Alec Howard's cabin on a certain never-to-be-forgotten night. “Who is that man--the one leaning against the door jamb, just behind Slim Leroy?” she asked. “He's a fellow that calls himself Johnson. His real name is Struve,” Jed answered carelessly. “He's the man that shot the Texas lieutenant,” she said. “I dare say. He's got a good reason for shooting him. The man broke out of the Arizona penitentiary, and Fraser came north to rearrest him. At least, that's my guess. He wouldn't have been here to-night if he hadn't figured Fraser too sick to come. Watch him duck when he learns the ranger's here.” At the first opportunity Arlie signaled to Dick that she wanted to see him. Fraser, she observed, was no longer in the dancing rooms. Dick took her out from the hot room to the porch. “Let's walk a little, Dick. I want to tell you something.” They sauntered toward the fine grove of pines that ran up the hillside back of the house. “Did you notice that man with the scar, Dick?” she presently asked. “Yes. I ain't seen him before. Must be one of the Rabbit Run guys, I take it.” “I've seen him. He's the man that shot your friend. He was the man I shot at when he looked in the window.” “Sure, Arlie?” “Dead sure, Dick. He's an escaped convict, and he has a grudge at your friend. He is afraid of him, too. Look out for Lieutenant Fraser to-night. Don't let him wander around outside. If he does, there may be murder done.” Even as she spoke, there came a sound from the wooded hillside--the sound of a stifled cry, followed by an imprecation and the heavy shuffling of feet. “Listen, Dick!” For an instant he listened. Then: “There's trouble in the grove, and I'm not armed,” he cried. “Never mind! Go--go!” she shrieked, pushing him forward. For herself, she turned, and ran like a deer for the house. Siegfried was sitting on the porch, whittling a stick. “They--they're killing Steve--in the grove,” she panted. Without a word he rolled off, like a buffalo cow, toward the scene of action. Arlie pushed into the house and called for Jed. CHAPTER XIII -- THE WOLF HOWLS As Steve strolled out into the moonlight, he left behind him the monotonous thumping of heavy feet and the singsong voice of the caller. “Birdie fly out, Crow hop in, Join all hands And circle ag'in.” came to him, in the high, strident voice of Lute Perkins. He took a deep breath of fresh, clean air, and looked about him. After the hot, dusty room, the grove, with its green foliage, through which the moonlight filtered, looked invitingly cool. He sauntered forward, climbed the hill up which the wooded patch straggled, and sat down, with his back to a pine.