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The situation was one that made for terror. To be alone with a

wounded man, his hurt undressed, to hear his delirium and not to

know whether he might not die any minute--this would have been

enough to cause apprehension. Add to it the darkness, her deep

interest in him, the struggle of her soul, and the dread of

unseen murder stalking in the silent night.

Though her thought was of him, it was not wholly upon him. She

sat where she could watch the window, Dick's revolver in another

chair beside her. It was a still, starry night, and faintly she

could see the hazy purple, mountain line. Somewhere beneath those

uncaring stars was the man who had done this awful thing. Was he

far, or was he near? Would he come to make sure he had not

failed? Her fearful heart told her that he would come.