"Yes," she confessed, "I must sleep somewhere."
"Then come; we'll find a bite to eat, and a place for you to lie down."
I opened the door noiselessly, although I took no special precaution, and held it wide, while she stepped across the threshold, and stood looking curiously about. Then I closed it behind us, and we were in a sort of twilight, amid which objects appeared rather indistinct.
"Ah," I said, "the fellow's cupboard must be over yonder. I hope he keeps it well stocked."
I stepped across in front of her, with no other thought than that of exploring the larder, when she gave vent to a startled cry, and I stopped suddenly, sweeping my eyes about to learn the cause of alarm. The ragged quilt was on the floor, and a man leaped across the room, and grasped the rifle in the corner. I saw the swift movement, realized the purpose, yet had scarcely time to draw a revolver from the belt, before he had hand on the weapon, and whirled savagely about facing us. For the instant the gloom disfigured his face—all I knew was that he was a big fellow, with ragged, untrimmed hair, and a scraggly beard. I stepped forward, and flung up my arm.
"Drop it!" I said shortly. "Lift that gun, and you're dead!"
At first I thought him crazy enough to take the
