up and went to the door; and there he stoodby the brook, wolfing my lunch with both hands. I tell you he cursedand drove me, like a dog, inside with his big pistol -- my God -- like adog. ...
"Then, the next time I took a chance he was gone. ... And I beat it hereto get me a rifle----" The boy broke down and sobbed: "He drove mearound -- like a dog -- he did----"
"You leave that to me," interrupted Lannis sharply. And, to Wier: "Youand George had better get a gun apiece. That fellow _might_ come backhere or go to Harrod Place if we starve him out."
Wier said to Fry: "Go up to Harrod Place and tell Jansen your story andbring back two 45-70's. ... And quit snivelling. ... You may get a shotat him yet."
Lannis had already ridden down to the brook. Now he jumped his horseacross, pulled up, called back to Wier:
"I think our man is making for Drowned Valley, all right. My mate,Stormont, telephoned me that some of his gang are there, and that MikeClinch and his gang have them stopped on the other side! Keep your eyeon Harrod Place!"
And away he cantered into the North.
* * * * *
Behind the curtains of her open window Eve Strayer, lying on her bed,had heard every word.
Crouched there beside her pillow she peered out and saw Trooper Lannisride away; saw the Fry boy start toward Harrow Place on a run; saw RalphWier watch them out of sight and then turn and re-enter the lodge.
Wrapped in Darragh's big blanket robe she got off the bed and opened herchamber door as Wier was passing through the living-room.
"Please -- I'd like to speak to you a moment," she called.
Wier turned instantly and came to the partly open door.
"I want to know," she said, "where I am."
"Ma'am?"
"What is this place?"
"It's a hatchery----"
"Whose?"
"Ma'am?"
"Whose lodge is this? Does it belong to Harrod Place?"
"We're h-hootch runners, Miss----" stammered Wier, mindful ofinstructions, but making a poor business of deception; "-- I and HalSmith, we run a `Easy One,' and we strip trout for a blind and sell toHarrod Place -- Hal and I----"
"_Who_ is Hal Smith?" she asked.
"Ma'am?"
The girl's flower-blue eyes turned icy: "Who is the man who callshimself Hal Smith?" she repeated.
Wier looked at her, red and dumb.
"Is he a Trooper in plain clothes?" she demanded in a bitter voice. "Ishe one of the Commissioner's spies? Are _you_ one, too?"
Wier gazed miserably at her, unable to formulate a convincing lie.
She flushed swiftly as a terrible suspicion seized her:
"Is this Harrod property? Is Hal Smith old Harrod's heir? _Is_ he?"
"My God, Miss----"
"He _is!_"
"Listen, Miss----"
She flung open the door and came out into the living-room.
"Hal Smith is that nephew of old Harrod," she said calmly. "His name isDarragh. And you are one of his wardens. ... And I can't stay here. Doyou understand?"
Wier wiped his hot face and waited. The cat was out; there was a holein the bag; and he knew there was no use in such lies as he could tell.
He said: "All I know, Miss, is that I was to look after you and get youwhatever you want----"
"I want my clothes!"
"Ma'am?"
"My _clothes!_" she repeated impatiently. "I've _got_ to have them!"
"Where are they, ma'am?" asked the bewildered man.
At the same moment the girl's eyes fell on a pile of men's sportingclothing -- garments sent down from Harrod Place to the Lodge -- lyingon a leather lounge near a gun-rack.
Without a glance at Wier, Eve went to the heap of clothing, tossed itabout, selected cords, two pairs of woollen socks, grey shirt, puttees,shoes, flung the garments through the door into her own room followedthem, and locked herself in.
* * * * *
When she was dressed -- the two heavy of socks helping to fit her feetto the shoes -- she emptied her handful of diamonds, sapphires andemeralds, including the Flaming Jewel, into the pockets of her breeches.
Now she was ready. She unlocked her door and went out, scarcely limpingat all, now.
Wier gazed at her helplessly as she coolly chose a rifle andcartridge-belt at the gun-rack.
Then she turned on him as still and dangerous as a young puma:
"Tell Darragh he'd better keep clear of Clinch's," she said. "Tell himI always thought he was a rat. Now I know he's one."
She plunged one slim hand into her pocket and drew out a diamond.
"Here," she said insolently. "This will pay your _gentleman_ for hisgun and clothing."
She tossed the gem onto a table, where it rolled, glittering.
"For heaven's sake, Miss----" burst out Wier, horrified, but she cut himshort:
"-- He may keep the change," she said. "We're no swindlers at Clinch'sDump!"
Wier started forward as though to intercept her. Eve's eyes flamed.And he stood still. She wrenched open the door and walked out among thesilver birches.
At the edge of the brook she stood a moment, coolly loading the magazineof her rifle. Then, with one swift glance of hatred, flung at the placethat Harrod's money had built, she sprang across the brook, tossed herrifle to her shoulder, and passed lithely into the golden wilderness ofpoplar and silver birch.
* * * * *
II
Quintana, on a fox-trot along the rock-trail into Drowned Valley, nowthoroughly understood that it was the only sanctuary left him for themoment. Egress to the southward was closed; to the eastward, also; andhe was too wary to venture westward toward Ghost Lake.
No, the only temporary safety lay in the swamps of Drowned Valley.
And there, he decided as he jogged along, if worse came to worst andstarvation drove him out, he'd settle matters with Mike Clinch and breakthrough to the north.
He meant to settle matters with Mike Clinch anyway. He was not afraidof Clinch; not really afraid of anybody. It had been the dogs thatdemoralised Quintana. He'd had no experience with hunting hounds, --did not know what to expect, -- how to manoeuvre. If only he could have_seen_ these beasts that filled the forest with their hob-goblinoutcries -- if he could have had a good look at the creatures who gaveforth that weird, crazed, melancholy volume of sound!---
"Bon!" he said coolly to himself. "It was a crisis of nerves which Iexperience. yes. ... I should have shot him, that fat Sard. Yes. ...Only those damn dog---- And now he shall die an' rot -- that fat Sard-- all by himse'f, parbleu! -- like one big dead thing all alone in thewood. ... A puddle of guts full of diamonds! Ah! -- mon dieu! -- amillion francs in gems that shine like festering stars in this damn woodtill the world end. Ah, bah -- nome de dieu de----"
"Halte la!" came a sharp voice from the cedar fringe in front. A pause,then recognition; and Henri Picquet walked out on the hard ridge beyondand stood leaning on his rifle and looking sullenly at his leader.
Quintana came forward, carelessly, a disagreeable expression in his eyesand on his narrow lips, and continued on pas Picquet.
The latter slouched after his leader, who had walked over to the lean-tobefore which a pile of charred logs lay in cold ashes.
As Picquet came up, Quintana turned on him, with a gesture toward theextinguished fire: "It is cold like hell," he said. "Why do you nothave some fire?"
"Not for me, non." growled Picquet, and jerked a dirty thumb in thedirection of the lean-to.
And there Quintana saw a pair of muddy boots protruding from a blanket.
"It is Harry Beck, yes?" he inquired. Then _something_ about the bootsand blanket silenced him. He kept his eyes on them for a full minute,then walked into the lean-to. The blanket also covered Harry Beck'sfeatures and there was a stain on it where it outlined the prostrateman's features, making a ridge over the bony nose.
After a moment Quintana looked around at Picquet:
"So. He is dead. Yes?"
r /> Picquet shrugged: "Since noon, mon capitaine."
"Comment?"
"How shall I know. It was the fire, perhaps, -- green wood or wet -- itis no matter now. ... I said to him, `Pay attention, Henri; your woodmakes too much smoke.' To me he reply I shall go to hell. ... Well,there was too much smoke for me. I arise to search for wood more dry,when, crack! -- they begin to shoot out there----" He waved a dirtyhand toward the forest.
"`Bon,' said I, `Clinch, he have seen your damn smoke!'
"`What shall I care?' he make reply, Henri Beck, to me. `Clinch heshall shoot and be damn to him. I cook me my dejeuner all the same.'
"I make