Flip was silent. She was thinking. Believing that the men were seeking
her only, she knew that their attention would be directed from her
companion when it was found out he was no longer with her, and she
dreaded to meet them in his irritable presence.

"Go," she said, "tell Dad something's gone wrong in the diamond pit, and
say I'm watching it for him here."

"And you?"

"I'll go there and wait for him. If he can't get rid of them, and they
follow him there, I'll come back here and meet you. Anyhow, I'll manage
to have Dad wait there a spell."

She took his hand and led him back by a different path to the trail. He
was surprised to find that the cabin, its window glowing from the fire,
was only a hundred yards away. "Go in the back way, by the shed. Don't
go in the room, nor near the light, if you can. Don't talk inside,
but call or beckon to Dad. Remember," she said, with a laugh, "you're
keeping watch of me for him. Pull your hair down on your eyes so." This
operation, like most feminine embellishments of the masculine toilet was
attended by a kiss, and Flip, stepping back into the shadow, vanished in
the storm.

Lance's first movements were inconsistent with his assumed sex. He
picked up his draggled skirt, and drew a bowie knife from his boot. From
his bosom he took a revolver, turning the chambers noiselessly as he
felt the caps. He then crept toward the cabin softly and gained the
shed. It was quite dark but for a pencil of light piercing a crack of