A half hour more went by.

Suddenly the pipe was laid aside, and Jim's hand crept inside his shirt to find the butt of the revolver.

His quick ear had caught the sound of a swiftly moving horse coming down the mountain.
The horse stopped at the gate and a low whistle came out of the darkness.

Leaving his seat, Sammy's father crossed the yard, and, a moment later, the horse with its rider was going on again down the trail toward the valley below and the distant river.
Jim waited at the gate until the sound of the horse's feet had died away in the night.

Then he returned to the cabin.