All are armed.
It may be foolish, but I'm following your hunch." They gripped hands.
"It's more than a hunch, Alan," breathed Stampede softly.

"And for God's sake keep off the music as long as you can!" He was gone, and as his agile, boyish figure started in a half-run toward the foothills, Alan set his face southward, so that in a quarter of an hour they were lost to each other in the undulating distances of the tundra.
Never had Alan traveled as on the last of this sixth day of his absence from the range.

He was comparatively fresh, as his trail to Tatpan's camp had not been an exhausting one, and his more intimate knowledge of the country gave him a decided advantage over Stampede.

He believed he could make the distance in ten hours, but to this he would be compelled to add a rest of at least three or four hours during the night.

It was now eight o'clock.