It was over in a little while. The wind passed; the thunder rumbled and growled in the distance; and the rain fell gently; but the sky was still lighted by the red glare. Though it was so dark that Sammy could see the trees and rocks only by the lightning’s flash, she was not frightened. She knew that Brownie would find the way easily, and, as for the wetting, she would soon be laughing at that with her friends at the Postoffice. But, as the girl was on the point of moving, a voice said, “It’s a mighty good thing for us this old ledge happened to be here, ain’t it?” It was a man’s voice, and another replied, “Right you are. And it’s a good thing, too, that this blow came early in the evening.” The speakers were between Sammy and the trail. They had evidently sought shelter from the storm a few seconds after the girl had gained her position. In the wild uproar she had not heard them, and, as they crouched under the cliff, they were hidden by a projection of the rock, though now and then, when the lightning flashed, she could see a part of one of the horses. They might be neighbors and friends. They might be strangers, outlaws even. The young woman was too wise to move until she was sure. The first voice spoke again. “Jack got off in good time, did he?” “Got a good start,” replied the other. “He ought to be back with the posse by ten at the latest. I told him we would meet them at nine where this trail comes into the big road.” “And how far do you say it is to Jim Lane’s place, by the road and the Old Trail?” asked the first voice. At the man’s words a terrible fear gripped Sammy’s heart. _“Posse,”_ that could mean only one thing,—officers of the law. But her father’s name and her home—in an instant Jim’s strange companionship with Wash Gibbs, their long mysterious rides together, her father’s agitation that morning, when he said good-by, with a thousand other things rushed through her mind. What terrible thing was this that she had happened upon in the night? What horrible trap had they set for her Daddy, her Daddy Jim? For trap it was. It could be nothing else. At any risk she must hear more. She had already lost the other man’s reply. Calming herself, the girl listened eagerly for the next word. A match cracked. The light flared out, and a whiff of tobacco smoke came curling around the rock, as one of the men said: “Are you sure there is no mistake about their meeting at Lane’s to-night?” “Can’t possibly be,” came the answer. “I was lying in the brush, right by the gate when the messenger got there, and I heard Jim give the order myself. Take it all the way through, unless we make a slip to-night, it will be one of the prettiest cases I ever saw.” “Yes,” said the other; “but you mustn’t forget that it all hinges on whether or not that bank watchman was right in thinking he recognized Wash Gibbs.”