Perth Amboy evening news., 1922-11-03
Continued from Our Last Issuc)
CHAPTER II

AfOhi OuT 1dSL lSSut)
CHAPTER II
Qutntana, on a fox-trot along tht
= rock-trail into Drowned Valley, lov
thoroughly understood that it wal
the only sanctuary left him for the
moment. Egress to the southwark
was closed; to the eastward. also,
and he vas too weary to venture
toward Ghost Lake.
No, the only temporary safety lay
in the swamps of Drowned Valley
He meant to settle matters with
Mike Clinch anyway. He was not
afraid of Clinch: not really afraid OF
anybody. 1t had been the dogs that
demoralized Quintana. He'd had nc
experience with hunting hounds
did not know what to expsct-how
to maneuver. If only he could nave
5 seen these beasts that filled the for
est with their hob-goblin outcries-
If he could have had a good look at
the creatures who gave forth that
weird melancholy volume of
sound
"Bon!' he said coolly to himself.
1t was a crisis of nerves which 1
experience. Yes I should
have shot him, that fat Sard. Yes.
Only those damn dogs And
now he shall die an rot-that fat
Sard-an by himself, parbleu!-like
n big dead thing all alone in the
wood. . A puddle Of CUTS full
of diamonds! Ah-mon dieu! a
million francs in gems that shine
like fostering stars in this damn
wood till the world end. All, bah
nome de dieu de-"
Hate la" came a sharp voice
from the Nndar FRINGE IT, f-1r+
pause, then recognition; and Henri
Picquet walked out on the hard
ridge beyond and stood leaning on
his rifle and looking sulleniy at his
leader.
Quintana came forward. careless
ly, a d~isagreeable expression in his
eyes and on his narrow lips, and
continued on past Picquet.
The latter slouched after his
leader, who had walked over to the
lean-to before which a pile of
charred logs lay in cold ashes.
As Picquet anne up, Quintana
turned on him, with a gesture to-
ward the extinguished fire: 1T is
cold like hell" he said. why do
You not have some fire?"
Not for me-, non." growled Pic
quiet. and jerked a dirty thumb in
az LII CSNAOi vi TIE lcdu-lO.
And there Quintana saw a pair of
muddy boots ~protruding from a
blanket.
1T is Harry Beck, yes?" he in
CURED. Then something about the,
boots and the blanket sileneed him.
He kept his eyes on them for a full
minute, then walked into the lean
to. The blanket also covered Harry
Becks features and there was a
stain on it where it outlined the
PROSTATE mans features, making a
ridge over the bony nose.
After a moment Quintana looked
around at Picquet:
$50. He is dead. Yes
Picquot shrugged: "since noon,
mon c~apitaine."
Comment"
"How shall I know? 1t was the
nre, perhaps-green wood or wet
1t is no matter now . . I said to
him, Pay attention, Henri; your
wood makes too much smoke TO
me he reply 1 shall go to hell
Well. there was o. much smoke for
me. ! arise to search for wood
mor dry, when, crack!-they begin
to shoot out there He waved a
dirty hand toward the forest.
Bon said 1, 'Clinch, he nave
seen your damn smoke!'
What shall I care?' he make
reply, Henri Beck, to me. 'Clinch
he shall shoot and be damn to him.
l cook me my dejeuner al the
same
Il make representations to the
Johnbull: he say to me that 1 am a
frog, and other injuries, while he
by yet more wood on his sacre fire.
Then crack crack! crack! and
zing-gg!-whee'ee! come the big bull
let's of Clinch and his voyous yon-
der.
"Bon,' I say. me, I make my ex-
cuse to retire.
Then Henri Beck he laugh and
say, Hop it, frog And that is all
he has find time to say, when crack!
spat! Bien droit he has it - tenez,
mon capitaine-here, e the left
eye! Like a beef surprise he go
over, crash! thumpl And like a beef
that dies, the air bellows out from
his big lungs"
Piquet looked down at the dead
comrade in a sort of wear COM