He bent nearer to the window and listened intently.

Yes; that was the whine of a wolf, but such a whine as he had heard Jimmie give in showing the call of the Wolf Patrol.
His friends--the loyal Boy Scouts--were not far away! He wondered for a moment why the call of the Wolf Patrol had been given instead of the call of the Black Bears, and then remembered that there were really wolves in the mountains, while there were no black bears.
The guard at the corner growled something under his breath as the second signal came, and finally called out sharply: "In the hut there!" There was a short silence, silence except for the falling rain and the lashing wind, and then the voice of the renegade was heard.
"What do you want ?" was asked.
"How much longer am I to remain here ?" demanded the guard.
"Until there is no longer need of guarding the window," was the reply.
"You are the only man here I can trust.

You must remain on guard." "He has as yet made no move to escape," the guard said, in fair English.
"I know that very well," came in Big Bob's voice, "for I have heard no shooting." So that was why he had been left alone there so long! He was to be permitted to leave the hut by way of the window, and was to be murdered as soon as he touched the ground.

The renegade figured that there could be no penalty for shooting at an escaping man who was charged with a serious crime.
"Perhaps it is just as well," Big Bob said, directly, "for I have not talked with him yet." "Then you'd better do so at once," grunted the guard.

"This is no picnic out here in the rain!" "Have patience!" replied the renegade, and the voices ceased.
In a few moments Fremont heard the renegade at his door, speaking in a whisper to the guard there.