Suddenly he heard a movement. A man's steps, subdued and yet
distinct, were moving from the window toward the door. Half way
they paused, and turned to one of the windows looking westward.
But it was evident the watcher was not expecting his game from
that direction, for after a moment's silence he returned to the
window through which he could see the trail. This time Jolly Roger
was sure. Cassidy was again peering through the window, with his
back toward him, and every muscle in the forest rover's body
gathered for instant action. In another moment he had flung open
the door, and the watcher at the window whirled about to find
himself looking straight into the muzzle of Jolly Roger's gun.

For several minutes after that last swift movement of Jolly
Roger's, Peter lay where his master had left him, his eyes fairly
popping from his head in his eagerness to see what was happening.
He heard voices, and then the wild thrill of Jolly Roger's
laughter, and restraining himself no longer he trotted cautiously
to the open door of the cabin. In a chair sat the stranger with
the broad-brimmed hat and high boots, with his hands securely tied
behind him. And Jolly Roger was hustling about, filling a
shoulder-pack in the last light of the day.

"Cassidy, I oughta kill you," Jolly Roger was saying as he worked,
an exultant chuckle in his voice. "You don't give me any peace. No
matter where I go you're sure to come, and I can't remember that I
ever invited you. I oughta put you out of the way, and plant
flowers over you, now that I've got the chance. But I'm too
chicken-hearted. Besides, I like you. By the time you get tired of
chasing me you should be a pretty good man-hunter. But just now