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"Pshaw! The girl is her own master." "I mean, someone will probably get hurt over there." He nodded in the direction of Fort O'Battle. "That's in the game. The girl is worth fighting for, hein?" "Of course, and the law must protect her. It's a free country." "So true, my captain," murmured Pierre drily. "It is wonderful what a man will do for the law." The tone struck Halby.
It was at Fort O'Battle that he met Pierre, and heard a voice say over his shoulder, as he walked out into the icy dusk: "The voice of one crying in the wilderness... and he had sackcloth about his loins, and his food was locusts and wild honey." He turned to see Pierre, who in the large room of the Post had sat and watched him as he prayed and preached.
Within another thirty hours he was hid in the woods behind Fort O'Battle, having travelled nearly all night. He saw the dawn break and the beginning of sunrise as he watched the Fort, growing every moment colder, while his horse trembled and whinnied softly, suffering also. At last he gave a little grunt of satisfaction, for he saw two men come out of the Fort and go to the corral.
He turned to Pierre in dismay. Pierre's face lighted up with the spirit of fresh adventure. Desperate enterprises roused him; the impossible had a charm for him. "I will go to Fort O'Battle," he said. "Give me another pistol." "You cannot do it alone," said Halby, hope, however, in his voice. "I will do it, or it will do me, voila!" Pierre replied. Halby passed over a pistol.
"Pshaw! The girl is her own master." "I mean, someone will probably get hurt over there." He nodded in the direction of Fort O'Battle. "That's in the game. The girl is worth fighting for, hein?" "Of course, and the law must protect her. It's a free country." "So true, my captain," murmured Pierre drily. "It is wonderful what a man will do for the law." The tone struck Halby.
Halby, with one foot on a bench, was picking at the fur on his sleeve thoughtfully. His face was a little drawn, his lips were tight-pressed, and his eyes had a light of excitement. Presently he straightened himself, and, after a half-malicious look at Pierre, he said to Throng: "Where are they, do you say?" "They're at" the old man coughed hard "at Fort O'Battle." "What are they doing there?"
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