He had no time for further thought. In the open door of the cabin appeared a man so huge that he had to bend his head to look out, and Andrew's heart fell. It was not the slender, rawboned youth of whom Uncle Jasper had told him, but a hulking giant. And then he remembered that twenty years had passed since Uncle Jasper rode that way, and in twenty years the gaunt body might have filled out, the shock of bright-red hair of which Jasper spoke might well have been the original of the red flood which now covered the face and throat of the big man. "Hello!" called the trapper. "Are you one of the boys on the trail? Well, I ain't seen anything. Been about six others here already." The blood leaped in Andrew, and then ran coldly back to his heart. Could they have outridden the gelding to such an extent as that? "From Tomo?" he asked. "Tomo? No. They come down from Gunter City, up yonder, and Twin Falls." And Andrew understood. Well indeed had Hal Dozier fulfilled his threat of rousing the mountains against this quarry. He glanced westward. It was yet an hour lacking of sundown, but since mid-morning Dozier had been able to send his messages so far and so wide. Andrew set his teeth. What did cunning of head and speed of horse count against the law when the law had electricity for its agent? "Well," said Andrew, slipping from his saddle, "if he hasn't been by this way I may as well stay over for the night. If they've hunted the woods around here all day, no use in me doing it by night. Can you put me up?" "Can I put you up? I'll tell a man. Glad to have you, stranger. Gimme your hoss. I'll take care of him. Looks like he was kind of ganted up, don't it? Well, I'll give him a feed of oats that'll thicken his ribs." Still talking, he led the gelding into his shed. Andrew followed, took off the saddle, and, having led the chestnut out and down to the creek for a drink, he returned and tied him to a manger which the trapper had filled with a liberal supply of hay, to say nothing of a feed box stuffed with oats. A man who was kind to a horse could not be treacherous to a man, Andrew decided. "You're Hank Rainer, aren't you?" he asked. "That's me. And you?" "I'm the unwelcome guest, I'm afraid," said Andrew. "I'm the nephew of Jasper Lanning. I guess you'll be remembering him?" "I'll forget my right hand sooner," said the big, red man calmly. But he kept on looking steadily at Andrew. "Well," said Andrew, encouraged and at the same time repulsed by this calm silence, "my name is one you've heard. I am--" The other broke in hastily. "You are Jasper Lanning's nephew. That's all I know. What's a name to me? I don't want to know names!"