The gun she slid under the pillow, and her fingers rested still upon the cool comfort of the butt.
Soon she heard a horse galloping, and she went to the window again and looked out.

The moon hung low over the bluff, so that the trail lay mostly in the shadow.

But down by the gate it swung out in a wide curve to the rocky knoll, and there it lay moon-lighted and empty.

She fixed her eyes upon that curve and waited.

In a moment the horseman galloped out upon the curve, rounded it, and disappeared in the shadows beyond.
At that distance and in that deceptive light, she could not tell who it was; but it was a horseman, a man riding at night in haste, and with some purpose in mind.
Jean had thought that the prowler might be some tramp who had wandered far off the beaten path of migratory humans, and who, stumbling upon the coulee and its empty dwellings, was searching at random for whatever might be worth carrying off.