She knew that squeal of the bottom hinge, and she knew the final gasp and click that proved the latch was fastened.

She heard him step off the porch to the path, she heard the soft crunch of his feet in the sandy gravel as he went away toward the stable.

Very cautiously she got off the couch and crept to the window; and with her gun gripped tight in her hand, she looked out.

But he had moved into a deep shadow of the bluff, and she could see nothing of him save the deeper shadow of his swift-moving body as he went down to the corral.

Jean gave a long sigh of nervous relaxation, and crept shivering under the Navajo blanket.