Bud waited patiently while she stood there in a tremble. She did not want this Thing to catch him. She did not want him dragged off and put in prison or possibly killed. She was a valley girl, but these mountains were part of her. It was as though she were surrendering Caterpillar Ridge. As long as she could remember she had associated these woods with Bud Childers. The fool! Why didn’t he run instead of waiting for her? “Reckon we’d better be rackin’ erlong,” he said. So she started once more, and then, unexpectedly, they were around a turn and in full view of the clearing before the shack. Her eyes were drawn as by a magnet to the spot where she had last seen the crumpled form of Allston. It was not there. Moreover, smoke was coming from the cabin chimney. Some one was here--but not the crowd she had expected. Not a soul was in sight. “Wanter turn in thar?” asked Bud. Roxie caught her breath. “Whar _is_ he?” she trembled. “They mought ha’ kerried him inside,” he said in a voice grown dead. With that he went on again, across the log towards the shack. She followed close at his heels, afraid of what she might see. Twice her hand was almost upon Bud’s arm, but she was not sure, even at this moment, of what she ought to do. CHAPTER XXVII Allston was facing the door when the two figures came out of the road. He sprang to his feet reaching for his automatic. Wilmer was bending over the fire. “What is it, Ned?” she asked, without turning. “I’m going outside a moment. Wait here,” he ordered. Before she grasped the full meaning of his words, he was across the threshold and in the open, his gun half-raised, his eyes full upon the eyes of Bud Childers. Roxie stared as at one risen from the dead. She stood transfixed. Had it not been for the bandaged head which gave Allston his one touch of reality, she would not have been able to breathe As it was she breathed deeply and slowly and softly as before an apparition which might vanish at a sound. And her hand, like a child’s, sought Bud’s hand. She gripped it with all her might. Then another figure appeared at the door--the figure of a woman. There was reality enough about Wilmer Howe. After one glance she rushed out and threw herself in front of Allston, reaching up her white arms to his shoulders, shielding him with her body. Very gently Allston tried to turn her one side, but with a moaning cry she clung. “No! No! No!” she choked. Roxie saw Allston’s half-raised arm lower and saw it sweep around this woman.