"Sh!" and then the waiting was over. Two dark figures, guns ready, stole from the woods behind White's cabin. Where were the dogs? Why did they not speak out?--but the dogs were trained to be as silent as the men. They were all part and parcel of the secret lawlessness of the hills. In the dim light Truedale watched the shadowy forms enter Jim's unlocked cabin and presently issue forth, evidently convinced that the prey was not there--had not been there! Then as stealthy as Indians they made their way to the other cabin--Truedale's late shelter. They kept to the bushes and the edge of the woods--they were like creeping animals until they reached the shack; then, standing erect and close, they went in the doorway. So near was the hiding place of Truedale and his companion that they could hear the oaths of the hunters as they became aware that their quarry had escaped. "He's been here, all right!" It was Jed Martin who spoke. "I reckon he's caught on," Peter Greyson drawled, "he's makin' for Jim White. White ain't more'n fifteen miles back; we can cut him off, Jed, 'fore he reaches safety--the skunk!" Then the two emerged from the cabin and strode boldly away. "The others!" whispered Truedale--"will they come?" "Wait!" There was a stir--a trampling--but apparently the newcomers did not see Martin and Greyson. There was a crackling of underbrush by feet no longer feeling need of caution, then another space of silence before safety was made sure for the two in the bushes. At last Truedale dared to speak. "Nella-Rose!" He looked down at the face upon his breast. She was asleep--deeply, exhaustedly asleep! Truedale shifted his position. He was cramped and aching; still the even breathing did not break. He laid her down gently and put a heavy coat about her--one that earlier she had carried from the cabin in her effort to save him. He went to the house and grimly set to work. First he lighted a fire; then he righted the chairs and brought about some order from the chaos. He was no longer afraid of any man on God's earth; even Jim White was relegated to the non-essentials. Truedale was merely a primitive creature caring for his own! There was no turning back now--no waiting upon conventions. When he had made ready he was going out to bring his own to her home! The sullen, soggy night, with its bursts of fury and periods of calm, had settled down, apparently, to a drenching, businesslike rain. The natives knew how to estimate such weather. By daylight the streams would be raging rivers on whose currents trees and animals would be carried ruthlessly to the lowlands. Roads would be obliterated and human beings would seek shelter wherever they could find it.