"I'll go to death, I guess," said Andy quietly. "But I'll have a grin for Satan when he lets me in. I've beat 'em, even if they catch me." The coverlet dropped from her breast; her hand was suspended with stiff fingers. There had been a sound as of someone stumbling on the stairway, the unmistakable slip of a heel and the recovery; then no more sound. Andy was on his feet. She saw his face whiten, and then there was a glitter in his eyes, and she knew that the danger was nothing to him. But Anne Withero whipped out of her bed. "Did you hear?" "I tied and gagged him," said Andy, "but he's broken loose, and now he's raising the house on the quiet." For an instant they stood listening, staring at each other. "They--they're coming up the hall," whispered the girl. "Listen!" It was no louder than a whisper from without--the creak of a board. Andrew Lanning slipped to the door and turned the key in the lock. When he rejoined her in the middle of the room he gave her the key. "Let 'em in if you want to," he said. But the girl caught his arm, whispering: "You can get out that window onto the top of the roof below, then a drop to the ground. But hurry before they think to guard that way!" "Anne!" called a voice suddenly from the hall. Andy threw up the window, and, turning toward the door, he laughed his defiance and his joy. "Hurry!" she was demanding. A great blow fell on the door of her room, and at once there was shouting in the hall: "Pete, run outside and watch the window!" "Will you go?" cried the girl desperately. He turned toward the window. He turned back like a flash and swept her close to him. "Do you fear me?" he whispered. "No," said the girl. "Will you remember me?" "Forever!" "God bless you," said Andy as he leaped through the window. She saw him take the slope of the roof with one stride; she heard the thud of his feet on the ground below. Then a yell from without, shrill and high and sharp. When the door fell with a crash, and three men were flung into the room, Charles Merchant saw her standing in her nightgown by the open window. Her head was flung back against the wall, her eyes closed, and one hand was pressed across her lips. "He's out the window. Down around the other way," cried Charles Merchant. The stampede swept out of the room. Charles was beside her. She knew that vaguely, and that he was speaking, but not until he touched her shoulder did she hear the words: "Anne, are you unhurt--has--for heaven's sake speak, Anne. What's happened?" She reached up and put his hand away. "Charles," she said, "call them back. Don't let them follow him!" "Are you mad, dear?" he asked. "That murdering--" He found a tigress in front of him. "If they hurt a hair of his head, Charlie, I'm through with you. I'll swear that!" It stunned Charles Merchant. And then he went stumbling from the room. His cow-punchers were out from the bunk house already; the guests and his father were saddling or in the saddle.