"You are here because I ordered you to come with me; because if you hadn't I would have killed you back there in the shack, you red-handed murderer. Now listen, Hughes. I know what you are--a cattle thief. You and Le Fevre belong to the same outfit, only he was the smarter of the two. I have spared your life for a purpose, and if you fail me now I 'll shoot you down as I would a dog. Don't try to threaten me, you cur, for I am not that kind. I am not trusting you; I have n't from the first, but you are going into this fight on my side, and under my orders."
The two men glared into each other's eyes, silent, breathing hard, but there was a grim determination about the Sergeant's set jaw that left Hughes speechless. He grinned weakly, stamping down the snow under foot. Hamlin's continued silence brought a protest to his lips.
"Damn if I know why you say that," he began. "Haven't I been square?"
"Because I know your style, Hughes. You hate Le Fevre for the dirty trick he played on you, but you 'd sell out to him again in five minutes if you thought there was any money in it. I don't propose giving you the chance. You 'll go ahead, and you are in more danger from me than that outfit yonder. Now move, and we 'll take a look up the valley."
They ploughed a way through the drifts to the mouth of the narrow opening between the hills, dropping to their knees in the snow, and cautiously creeping forward the last few yards. Hamlin, convinced that fear alone could control the ex-cowthief, kept slightly to the rear.
"Now wait, Hughes," he said, his voice lowered but still tense with command. "Be careful, man. Crawl up there in between those drifts, and look over. Keep down low, you fool."
The two men wriggled slowly forward, smothered in the snowdrift, until Hughes' eyes barely topped the surface. Hamlin lay outstretched a foot below, watchful for the slightest sign of treachery. The cowman stared up the depression, blinking his eyes in the snow glare. The impatient Sergeant gripped his arm.
"Well, what is it? Are they coming?"
"You bet, an' about dead, from the looks of 'em. Them fellars ain't lookin' fer nuthin'. I reckon I could stand up straight yere an' they 'd never see me. Take a look yerself; it's safe 'nough."
Hamlin drew himself up, and peered out over the snow, but still gripped the other's arm. With his first glance up the valley there swept over him a strange feeling of sympathy for those he was hunting. It was a dismal, depressing picture--the bare, snow-covered hillsides, and between, floundering weakly through the drifts, the little party of fugitives, the emaciated ponies staggering with weakness, the men on foot, reeling as they tramped forward, their heads lowered in utter weariness. The girl alone was in saddle, so wrapped about in blankets as to be formless, even her face concealed. The manner in which she swayed to the movements of the pony, urged on by one of the Indians, was evidence that she was bound fast, and helpless. At sight of her condition Hamlin felt his old relentless purpose return. He was plainsman enough to realize what suffering those men had passed through before reaching such extremity, and was quick to appreciate the full meaning of their exhaustion, and to sympathize with it. He had passed through a similar baptism, and remembered the desperate clutch of the storm-king.