There was a silence as Howland slipped his weapon back into its holster.

Then the voices came again, very near, and at the sound of them his companion shrank close to him, her hands clutching his arms, her white, frightened face raised to him in piteous appeal.

His blood leaped through him like fire.

He knew that the girl had recognized the voices--that they who were about to pass him were the mysterious enemies against whom she had warned him.

Perhaps they were the two who had attacked him on the Great North Trail.