The West Virginian. [volume] (Fairmont, W. Va.) 1914-1974, 1922-11-03
Continued From Our Last Issue,
Hf4sApTnp IT

Qnintnnas on q fox-trot along
sls rocb;tfail into Drowned VAL
lcg now Thoroughly understood
that itwas the only sanctuary left
him for the moment. Egress to
the snuthwRrd was closed to the
castward also; and he was too
wary 70 venture. toward Ghost
No. the only temporary safety
lRy IN tie swampa Of Drowned
valley
He meant to settle matters with
MIKE ctlhch anyway. He was not
afraid 81 Ciinct1; not really afraid
OF anybody. 1t had been the dogs
that detnoralized Quintana. He'3
mad no experience with hunting
hounds did not know what TO ex
peet how to maneuver. II only
he could have seen these beasts
that filled the forest with theie
sliob+goblin outcries-tf he could
have had aIgood look at the
creatures who gave forth, that
weird melancholy volume VI
soundi@k
sBon., she said cody to him
self. 1T was a crisis of nerves
which 1 experience. Yes. ]
should have shot him. that fat
sard. Yes. Only those damn
dog And now he shall die an
rot that fat sard-all by him
self, parbleul-llke one big dead
hing all a1onein the wood. {.
A puddle OF CUTS full OF dla-
mondsI Ahi-mon dieu!-a mil
lion francs in gems that shine like
fostering stars in the damn wood
till the world end. All, bah
nome de dleu de-"
"daite lat, came sharp voice
from the cedar fringe In front. A
pause, then recognition: and Henri
picquet walked out on the hard
ridge beyond and stood leaning on
his rifle and looking sullenly az his
LEADER
ouintana came forward. care
lessly a disagreeable expression
N his eyes and on his narrow lips
and continued on past Picquet.
The latter slouched, after his
leader, who had walked over u the
Iean.to before which a pile Of
charrad logs lay in cold ashes.
AS Picquet came up, Quintana
turned on him, with a gesture TO-
vgid the extinguished fire: at ia
cold like he'll. he said. "Wlly do
you mot have some fret"
Not for me non,' growle1 Pic
anet, ana 1erked a dirty thumb In
the direction OF the lean.to
And there Quintana saw n pAr
OF muddy boots protruding, from a
blanket. ~
ut & Harry Beck, yes?' h. IN
CURED Then something about tho
boots and the blanket silenced
him. he kept Ills eyes on them for
q futls minute. then walked into the
leansto. Tide Blanket also covered
Harry Beck's features and there
was d stain on II where 1t outlined
tho PROSTATE mans features. max
ing d ridge over the bony nose.
After q moment Quintana looked
around at Picquet:
$50. He is dead. Yes?"
Plcauet, shrugged: Since noon,
mon captaine."
Comment"
How shall / know? 1t was
the fire, perhaps-green wood or
wetit Is no matter now :. l
said to him, Pay attention,
Henri; your wood makes too
mitch smoke To me he reply ]
shall go to hell Well, there
was too much smoke for me. l
Fise to search for wood more dry
when, crack!-they begin to shoot
out there" He waved a dirty
hand toward the forest.
Bon" said I, 'Cinch, he have
seenEyour damn smoke!"
What shall I care?" he made
reply, Henri Beck, to ME. Cinch
he shallEshoot and be damn to him
4 cook me my deipner all the
same.
make representations to that
Iohnhull; he say to me that l am
a frog, and other injuries, while
he lay yet more wood on hts sacre
fire;
sThen crack! crack! crack! and
ztig-ggi-whee-ee! come the big
bullets OF Clinch and his voyoas
Wonder.
siBori.i 1 say, me. T make my
exctife TO retire.
..Theh Henri Beck he laugh and
say. Hop in frog!' And that Is
ali he has find time to say when
crack shat! Bien droit he has
tenez, mon capitaine-here,
over the left eye!. Like a beef
sipriseg he got. over, crash! thump!
And like q beef that dies, the air
befiows out from his. big lungs"
Eicqnet looked down at the
dead comrade In a sort Of weary
compassion for such stupidity.
he pass, this ros-bln god
dam Johnbull. Ne, l roll him
in there 81 s Je ne sails pas pour
atlof Then i put out tho fire
and leave
Qnintana let his sneertng glance
resi- on the dead a moment, and
MI thin Lip curled lmmemorial
contempt for the Anglo-Saxon.
Ghe6ihe aiYested himself OF the
baske tspack which he had stolen
from the Fryiboy.
Aiors;7 he said calmly, at has
been Nike Clinch who shoot my
tflen Beck. Bien.''
He threw q cartridge into the
breech Of his rifle, adjusted his
ammunition belt Z en- bandouliere.
clreles
Them In . quiet voice: my