Hoping to discover some splinters for a fire, Hamlin kicked a clear space in the snow, yet kept his face always toward the bluff, his eyes vigilantly searching for any skulking figure.

Silent as those desert surroundings appeared, the Sergeant knew he was not alone.

He had a feeling that he was being watched, spied upon; that somewhere near at hand, crouching in that solitude, the eyes of murder followed his every movement.

Suddenly he straightened up, staring at the bluff nearly opposite where he stood.
Was it a dream, an illusion, or was that actually the front of a cabin at the base of the bank?
He could not believe it possible, nor could he be sure.

If so, then it consisted merely of a room excavated in the side of the hill, the opening closed in by cottonwood logs.