The ascent was so steep that the last bit had to be done on all fours.  It was a rock face, though by no means an impossible one, since projecting ledges and knobs offered a foothold all the way.  From the summit, the trail edged its way down so precipitously that twice fallen pines had to be used as ladders for the descent.

As soon as they were off the rocks, the big blonde gave the signal for silence.  “Ay bane t’ink we might meet up weeth some one,” he whispered, and urged Steve to follow him as closely as possible.

It was half an hour later that Sig pointed out a small clearing ahead of them.  “Cabin’s right oop on the edge of the aspens.  See it?”

The ranger nodded assent.

“Ay bane go down first an’ see how t’ings look.”

When the Norwegian entered the cabin, he saw two men seated at a table, playing seven up.  The one facing him was Tommie, the cook; the other was an awkward heavy-set fellow, whom he knew for the man he wanted, even before the scarred, villainous face was twisted toward him.

Struve leaped instantly to his feet, overturning his chair in his haste.  He had not met the big Norseman since the night he had attempted to hang Fraser.

“Ay bane not shoot yuh now,” Siegfried told him.

“Right sure of that, are you?” the convict snarled, his hand on his weapon.  “If you’ve got any doubts, now’s the time to air them, and we’ll settle this thing right now.”

“Ay bane not shoot, Ay tell you.”

Tommie, who had ducked beneath the table at the prospect of trouble, now cautiously emerged.

“I ain’t lost any pills from either of your guns, gents,” he explained, with a face so laughably and frankly frightened that both of the others smiled.

“Have a drink, Siegfried,” suggested Struve, by way of sealing the treaty.  “Tommie, get out that bottle.”

“Ay bane t’ink Ay look to my horse first,” the Norwegian answered, and immediately left by way of the back door not three minutes before Jed Briscoe entered by the front one.

Jed shut the door behind him and looked at the convict.

“Well?” he demanded.

Struve faced him sullenly, without answering.

“Tommie, vamos,” hinted Briscoe gently, and as soon as the cook had disappeared, he repeated his monosyllable:  “Well?”

“It didn’t come off,” muttered the other sulkily.

“Just what I expected.  Why not?”

Struve broke into a string of furious oaths.  “Because I missed him—­ missed him twice, when he was standing there naked before me.  He was coming down to the creek to take a bath, and I waited till he was close.  I had a sure bead on him, and he dived just as I fired.  I got another chance, when he was running across, farther down, and, by thunder, I missed again.”

Jed laughed, and the sound of it was sinister.

“Couldn’t hit the side of a house, could you?  You’re nothing but a cheap skate, a tin-horn gambler, run down at the heels.  All right.  I’m through with you.  Lieutenant Fraser, from Texas, can come along and collect whenever he likes.  I’ll not protect a false alarm like you any longer.”