"Isn't it horrible!" shuddered Douglas. "Horrible!"

Judith began to cry again. "If there was just a heaven," she sobbed, "I
wouldn't mind living or dying either."

"Well, there isn't any." Douglas heaved a great sigh. "I wonder if they
hang kids as young as us for murder?"

"Let them try hanging me, just once! That's all I've got to say!"
exclaimed Judith stoutly, in spite of her chattering teeth. "The worst
I ever did to Oscar Jefferson was to play bucking bronco on that old
milch cow, Jinny, of his. And she sure-gawd could buck! But I was only
a little girl then and I can prove it."

"Looks as if we might be in real trouble to me!" muttered Douglas.

"It's growing daylight and there's the Pass, at last!" suddenly cried
Judith.

Douglas drew a deep breath and urged on the weary horses.

It was full nine o'clock when the team drew up at the post-office door.
At Doug's halloo, Peter Knight appeared. Sister crowded out the door past
him, pricked her ears forward and ran to sniff at the rear of the
buckboard.

"What on earth brings you back at this hour?" demanded Peter.

"Trouble!" Douglas moistened his frost-cracked lips. "Oscar Jefferson was
shot last night. We got his body here."