He pushed open the cache door, and a moment later there came the sound of rending wood as he shouldered his way into the dark cabin, regardless of lock and bar.  Rouletta was close behind him when he struck a match and held it to a candle which he discovered fixed in its own wax beside the window.

Curiously the interlopers surveyed the unfamiliar premises.  Rouletta spoke first, with suppressed excitement: 

“You were right.  And they left in a hurry, too.”

“Sure.  Beddin’ gone, an’—­dey got plenty beddin’ on Hunker.  Here dey mak’ grub-pack, see?” ’Poleon ran his finger through a white dust of flour which lay thick upon the table.  Striding to the stove, he laid his hand upon it; he lifted the lid and felt of the ashes within.  “Dey lef ‘bout five hour’ ago.  Wal, dat’s beeg start.  I guess mebbe dey safe enough.”

“Don’t say that,” Rouletta implored.  “Rock can overtake them.  He’s a famous traveler.”

“I dunno.  Dey got good team—­”

“He must catch them!  Why, he has ninety miles to do it in!  He must, ’Poleon, he must!  Of course this is evidence, but it isn’t proof.  Remember, Pierce talked wildly.  People are prejudiced against him and—­you know the Police.  They act on suspicion, and circumstances are certainly strong.  Poor boy!  If these men get away—­who knows what may happen to him?  I tell you his very life may be in danger, for the law is an awful thing.  I—­I’ve always been afraid of it.  So was father, to his dying day.  We must send Rock flying.  Yes, and without a moment’s delay.”

“You still got deep feelin’ for dat feller?” ’Poleon inquired, gravely.  The quick look of anguish, the frank nod of assent that he received, were enough.  “Bien!” he said, slowly.  “I mak’ satisfy, dat’s all.  I never see you so scare’ as dis.”

“You know how I feel,” Rouletta said; then, more curiously:  “Why do you need to make sure?  Do you think I’ve changed—?” She hesitated for an instant; there came a faint pucker of apprehension between her brows; into her eyes crept a look of wonder which changed to astonishment, then to incredulity, fright.  “Oh—­h!” she exclaimed.  She raised a faltering hand to her lips as if to stay a further betrayal of the knowledge that had suddenly come to her.  “Oh, ’Poleon, my dear!  My brother!”

The man smiled painfully as he met her shocked gaze.  “I’m fonny feller, ma saeur; always dream-in’ de mos’ foolish t’ing.  Don’ pay no’tention.”

“I am—­I always will be that—­your sister.  Have I made you unhappy?”

Vigorously he shook his head; his face slowly cleared.  “No, no.  In dis life one t’ing is give me happiness—­one t’ing alone—­an’ dat is bring you joy.  Now come.  De grass growin’ on our feet.”

Together and in silence they hurried back as they had come; then, on the plea that he could make better time alone, ’Poleon left his companion and headed for the Barracks.