The erstwhile gambler awoke when the sun was high in the heavens; he felt lame and sore all over. Walking towards the edge of the ledge he saw, away in the distance, a large party of horsemen spread out over a great area. Cutler went down the path, bathed his face and arms in the cool spring water, and took a long drink; then, returning above, he sat down and leisurely ate from his store of dried beef, biscuits, and corn bread. At midday the approaching horsemen were in full view, and Cutler saw that they had come with prairie wagons, containing camp paraphernalia, evidently prepared for a siege, for they knew as well as he did himself of the hiding-place where he had taken refuge. Soon the riders came to a halt and Cutler laughed as he saw others coming from all directions, evidently anxious to be “in at the death.” It looked rather a big camp to the solitary figure high in the air, but numbers meant nothing, only--well, his ammunition would give out sooner or later. Then, of course, would come capture--but he wouldn’t look that far ahead. During the afternoon several men approached, one of them displaying a white handkerchief, which he waved to and fro. When the men reached the bottom of the hill they dismounted and one made his way slowly up, shouting now and again, “It’s me, Jim--Joe Ludlow.” Cutler made his way down the path and, suddenly coming upon Ludlow, ordered him to throw up his hands. The man did so, saying, “Jim, you and I have been friends for fifteen years; believe me, I’m unarmed; I want to talk to you--trust me.” Thereupon Cutler lowered his rifle, and the two men shook hands. Then followed a long confab, during which Ludlow did his utmost to get Cutler to surrender. He said Sheriff Benson was prepared to starve Cutler out, or get him at all costs. It would only mean loss of life and must eventually result in the fugitive’s capture. Ludlow said that he, with half-a-dozen “pals,” would assure Cutler a safe return to Three Corners, sending Benson and all the rest on ahead. Then Cutler could stand his trial, and, with a good lawyer from Butte to defend him, would no doubt stand a chance of some sort. Cutler listened patiently; then he shook his head. “I know what’s coming to me, Joe,” he said; “they have been after me for years in a quiet way. Now they want my life, but they sha’n’t have it--at least not until I’ve paved the way with a few of them.” Ludlow was a very decent sort of fellow, and he tried his utmost to convince Cutler that his argument was a good one. Cutler then took the man into his confidence, and, Ludlow promising not to say a word to those below, he was told the whole story--told of Miss Thurloe’s complaints, the episode at the school-house, the shooting of Cutler’s horse, and everything.