CHAPTER XXI.
WOLVES BECOMING DANGEROUS.
On the last slope of the mountain, where the sand of the desert crept up to the ridge of rock which might, at some distant day, become sand, too, Big Bob and his band of cut-throats came upon a deserted hut which had undoubtedly been used at some time by men who were searching there for gold.
The storm-clouds were shutting out the light of day when they paused before the one-hinged door of the two-room habitation.

Seeing the approaching tempest, the renegade ordered his men to gather fuel and build a fire on the hearth, preparatory to passing the night there.
This order was obeyed with reluctance, for the men were worn out with their exertions and ready to roll up in their blankets and seek rest without the comfort of a fire.

Besides, fuel was not plentiful there, and it was a long time before enough to satisfy the renegade could be gathered.
Fremont was placed in a room to the west, a room only roughly partitioned off from the other.

There was one window opening to this room, and that faced the west and the mountain range.
The storm was soon dashing in fury against the roof of the hut.

The frail structure trembled beneath the blows of the wind, and the clamor of the beating rains made all interior sounds inaudible.