But behind him to-night he must leave no witness, and as he approached his task, he found that his nerves needed the steadying of strong drink--and yet more strong drink. Out of the flask he was not only drawing appeasement of thirst, but fuel for determination. For a while he had even dozed while the girl, bound hand and foot, had shudderingly watched his dissolute and depraved face. Then at the end he had risen, stretched his long arms and sauntered insolently over, looking down while he phrased repulsive compliments to her beauty. Tiring eventually of his cat-and-mouse deliberateness, Ratler leaned down and, putting his arm about her waist, drew her up to him. Then it was that with all the revulsion that was in her she had screamed not once but until his hand had choked off her breath--and at that instant she had heard the shout from beyond the cave's entrance. Webb heard it, too, and hurled the woman away from him, suddenly brought back to something nearer sobriety by the shock. He wheeled and trained his pistol on the entrance. He had laid aside his rifle and there was no time now to hunt for it. Bear Cat would have to stoop and edge his way into the place and in the process he could be easily dispatched. But while he waited Ratler's knees shook and when, instead of crawling, he saw a shape dive almost horizontally through the aperture his courage evaporated. The lantern was badly placed and it confused the man inside because it darkened the opening while it left him in plain sight. Ratler's revolver was spitting venomously but ineffectually. His hand was unsteady and his eye confused. The drunkard was reeling as he fought and after a dazed moment he felt himself caught in a bone-breaking embrace while the butt of a pistol hammered the consciousness out of his skull. Turner Stacy was a wild man now. He stumbled blindly out of the cave dragging a limp figure behind him, and when he straightened up again and wiped his sweat-streaming face he had hurled the thing bodily outward, where the ravine dropped down a hundred feet. He came back, palsied and shaken, and as he bent over the girl and cut away her bonds, his voice struggled through dry sobs. "Blossom," he pleaded brokenly, "Blossom, tell me ye're only affrighted. Tell me thet ye didn't come ter no harm--fer my sake." "I hain't hurt--Turney," she managed to whisper. "Ye came back--in time--jest barely in time." She stood leaning weakly against the rock wall with her hands pressed tightly to her face. The man stood, panting with excitement and exertion, but into his pupils came a sudden light of hope. "Blossom," he whispered huskily, "Blossom--ye didn't ... come over ... hyar ... because ye ... because ye keered fer me, did ye?"