The moon was very bright now, so that all the little square houses showed plainly, as did the white expanse of the empty street. Nothing stirred in all of the sleeping town; the very quiet and peace did indeed make him feel drowsy almost at once. He yawned a great yawn and was just about to turn from the window when a moving shadow caught his eye. Some one was coming down the deserted street, some one who walked noiselessly but swiftly and with great determination. It was a woman, he could see, an Indian squaw, with broad, bent shoulders and heavy dark hair. Even at that distance and in the deceiving moonlight he felt certain that it was the woman he had seen before, Laughing Mary.
She turned in at the gate and came hurrying up the path, but she did not reach the door. Two men followed her, one lithe and stooping, the other tall and moving with great strides—there was no doubt in Hugh’s mind that it was Half-Breed Jake. He seized the woman by the shoulder and whirled her about just as, very plainly, she was on the point of mounting the doorstep
