he waited for a reply

  As he crawled from the stable to the back door a dim shadow moved round the corner of the shack and disappeared toward the trestle. Though no sound went with it, he was not alarmed. He challenged in a low voice. No reply. He stood erect to expose his uniform and called again. But the thing he had seen filtered into the vague moon shadows and was gone.   Knocking at the door, he waited for a reply. Not a sound reached him, yet he felt that ears were listening. He tried the latch, found it caught, and whispered his name. Immediately the door opened and Tressa Torrance seized his arm.   "All right here?" he enquired.   "Where's Adrian?" Calm and undisturbed was the tone, but he could feel her hand tremble on his arm.   "He'll be all right," he replied cheerily. "No mere bohunk ever got the better of Adrian Conrad. Who went out just now?"   "The Indian. He's been waiting for you."   "Oh!"   "Tell me, is it true--what he told us?"   "Only too true. They fired on us up the track."   She heaved a deep breath. "That was what we heard. Nothing more. I was afraid--Conrad hasn't come. . . . And the Indian wouldn't let any one leave the shack."

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