Evening journal. [volume] (Wilmington, Del.) 1888-1932, 1922-11-04
CONTINUED From Our Last 1ssue)
CHAPTER II

Qulntdnd, on a loN-ttoL h4'iiS eAAN
rock-tra!l into Drowned Valley, now
thoroughly understood that 1t was
the only sanctuary left him for the
moment. Egress TO the southwark
was closed; to the eastward, also;
and he was too wary TO venture to-
ward Ghost Lake.
No, the only temporary safety lay
in the swamps Of Drowned Valley
He meant to settle matters with
Mike Clinch anyway. lie was not
afraid OF Ciinch mot really afraid OF
anybody. 1t had been the dogs that
demoralized Quintana. He'd had no
experience with hunting hounds
did not know what to expect--how
TO maneuver. II only he could have
seen these beasts that filed the for
est with their hob-goblin outcries-
II he could have had a good look at
the creatures who gave forth that
weird. melancholy volume OF
sound
"Boni" he said coolly to himself.
1T was crisis OF nerves which I
experience. Yes. 49,. / should
have shot him, that fat Sard. Yes.
.... Only those damn dog And
now he shall die an rot-that fat
sard-all by himself, parbleul-
like one big dead thing all alone in
the wood. $50. A puddle Of CUTS full
Of dlamondsi Ahl--mon dieui-a
million francs in gems that shine
like fostering stars in this damn
wood till the world end. All, bah
nome de dieu de-"
"Halte lai" came a 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 rife and looking sullenly at his
leader.
Quintana came forward, careless
w. dlsagreeabie 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 came up. ouintana /
turned on him, with a gesture to-
ward the extinguished fire; 1T is
cold Ike HE'LL he said. why do
you not have some fire? ?"
mot for me. non.' growled Pic
quet, and jerked dirty thumb In
the direction of the lean-to.
And there Quintana saw a pair OF
muddy boots protruding from
blanket.
1T is Harry Beck, yes?" he In
CURED. Then something about the |
boots and the blanket silenced him. I
He kept his eyes on them for a full
then walked into the lean
to. The blanket also covered Harry !
Beck's features and there was
stain on It where It outlined the
PROSTATE mans features. making
ridge over the bony nose.
After a moment Juintana looked
around at Picquet;
80. He Is dead. Yes7"
Picouet shrugged: "since noon,
mon captaine."
Comment"
How shall I know It was the
fire. perhaps-green wood or wet
Il 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 too much smoke for
me. I arise 10 search for wood
more dry. when. crackl-they begin 1
% shoot out there" He waved 6
iirty hand toward the forest.
Bon. said I. 'Clinch. he have
ieen your damn smokel'
" What shall I carer he make h
'eply, Henri Beck. TO me. 'Ciinch h
lie shall shoot and be damn to him. (
cook me my dejeuner all the s
anne \
Il make representations 10 that I,
Tohnbuil; he say to me that I am
rog. and other injuries. while he n
az yet more wood on his sacre FIRE.
Then crack crack crack and n
ing-gg!-whee-eei come the big \
ullets OF ciincb and his voyous 2
onder. II
=" Bon I say. me. make my =
xcuse 10 retire
Then Henri Beck he laugh and :,
~. Hop It. frog!' And that is all ~
e has find time TO say. when crack
patti Bien droit he has it--tenez, y
ION captaine-here. over the left y
re, Like q beef surprise he
, over, crashi thumpl And Ike a n'
EFF that dies, the air bellows out
ON his big lungs"
Picouet looked down at the dead te
,mrade IN a sort Of weary COM 81
assion for such stupidity.
$50 he pass, this ros-biff god ~
am Johnbull. ... Me, / roll him in 10
iere. 49,. Je ne sails pas pourquoi. W
~. Then I put out the fire and
ave" n
Quintana let his sneering glance m
est on the dead a moment, and his
hin lip curled immemorial con- G
empt for the Anglo-Saxon. m
Then he Invested himself OF the wv
which he had stolen m
rom the Fry boy. a
''Aiors," he said calmly. at has al
BEEN Mike Clinch who shoot my HI
rien' Beck. Bien"
He threw a cartridge into the Il
'reech of his rifle, adjusted his am- 81
nunition belt en- bandouliere. care ri
essly.
Then. in a quiet voice: my frlen' c
'icquet. the time has now arrive
vhen It become YER necessary that
We go from here away. Donc-I &
hall now go kill my frien' Mike
'llnch." v
Picouet. unastonished, gave him u
heavy. bovine look of inquiry.
Quintana said softly: Me. I have %
nough already OF this damn woods p
Why shall We starve here when
here lies our path7" He pointed r.
orth; his arm remained out
tretched for a while. a
"Clinch. he is there" growled '