"An' even if he did, he wouldn't believe me.

Maybe nobody will....

All the same, Snake Anson won't get that girl." With these last words Dale satisfied himself of his own position, and his pondering ceased.

Taking his rifle, he descended from the loft and peered out of the door.

The night had grown darker, windier, cooler; broken clouds were scudding across the sky; only a few stars showed; fine rain was blowing from the northwest; and the forest seemed full of a low, dull roar.
"Reckon I'd better hang up here," he said, and turned to the fire.