The strange, live shriek was not repeated. But the cry, like that of a woman in her death-throes, pierced the silence again. It left a quivering ring that softly died away. Then the stillness clamped down once more and the darkness seemed to thicken. The men waited, and when they had begun to relax the cry burst out appallingly close, right behind the trees. It was human--the personification of pain and terror--the tremendous struggle of precious life against horrible death. So pure, so exquisite, so wonderful was the cry that the listeners writhed as if they saw an innocent, tender, beautiful girl torn frightfully before their eyes. It was full of suspense; it thrilled for death; its marvelous potency was the wild note--that beautiful and ghastly note of self-preservation. In sheer desperation the outlaw leader fired his gun at the black wall whence the cry came. Then he had to fight his horse to keep him from plunging away. Following the shot was an interval of silence; the horses became tractable; the men gathered closer to the fire, with the halters still held firmly. “If it was a cougar--thet 'd scare him off,” said Anson. “Shore, but it ain't a cougar,” replied Wilson. “Wait an' see!” They all waited, listening with ears turned to different points, eyes roving everywhere, afraid of their very shadows. Once more the moan of wind, the mockery of brook, deep gurgle, laugh and babble, dominated the silence of the glen. “Boss, let's shake this spooky hole,” whispered Moze. The suggestion attracted Anson, and he pondered it while slowly shaking his head. “We've only three hosses. An' mine 'll take ridin'--after them squalls,” replied the leader. “We've got packs, too. An' hell 'ain't nothin' on this place fer bein' dark.” “No matter. Let's go. I'll walk an' lead the way,” said Moze, eagerly. “I got sharp eyes. You fellars can ride an' carry a pack. We'll git out of here an' come back in daylight fer the rest of the outfit.” “Anson, I'm keen fer thet myself,” declared Shady Jones. “Jim, what d'ye say to thet?” queried Anson. “Rustlin' out of this black hole?” “Shore it's a grand idee,” agreed Wilson. “Thet was a cougar,” avowed Anson, gathering courage as the silence remained unbroken. “But jest the same it was as tough on me as if it hed been a woman screamin' over a blade twistin' in her gizzards.” “Snake, shore you seen a woman heah lately?” deliberately asked Wilson. “Reckon I did. Thet kid,” replied Anson, dubiously. “Wal, you seen her go crazy, didn't you?” “Yes.” “'An' she wasn't heah when you went huntin' fer her?” “Correct.” “Wal, if thet's so, what do you want to blab about cougars for?” Wilson's argument seemed incontestable. Shady and Moze nodded gloomily and shifted restlessly from foot to foot. Anson dropped his head. “No matter--if we only don't hear--” he began, suddenly to grow mute.