Twenty feet away, almost entirely concealed among the tumbled masses of boulders, was a small cabin.

About it there were no signs of life with the exception of a thin wreath of smoke rising like a ghostly spiral up the side of the chasm wall; from it there came no sound.

Rod's index finger quivered on the trigger of his rifle.

Should he wait--until the outlaw came forth?
Half a minute he stood there, a minute, two minutes, and still he heard nothing, saw nothing.

He advanced a step, then another, and still another, until he saw the open door of the cabin.