The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1922-11-06
CHAPTER II

Quintana, on a fox-trot along the
rcck- trail into Drowned Valley. now
thoroughly understood that it was the
only sanctuary left him for the mo-
ment. Egress to the southwark was
eIoSed; to the eastward. also; and he
was too wary 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 CHnch; not really afraid Of
anybody. It had been the dogs that
demoraIized Quintana. He'd had no
experience with hunting hounds-did
lot know what to expect-how to ma
neuver. II only he could have seen
these beasts that filed the forest 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
"BOnr' he said coolly to himself.
cit was a crisis Of nerves which I
experienced. 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 himself, parbleui-like one big dead
thing all alone IN the wood
A puddle of CUTS full OF diamonds!
Ah-mon dieul-a million francs in
gems that shine like fostering stars
IN this damn wood till the world end.
All. bah-nome de dieu de-"
''EaIte La 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
". a disagreeable expression in his
eyes and on his narrow lips, and
continued on past Picquet.
AS Plcquet came 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
quet, and jerked a dirty thumb in
the direction Of the lean-to.
And there Qufntana saw a pair Of
muddy boots protruding from
blanket
1T is Harry Beck. yes?" he In
quired. Then something about the
boots and the 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's 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?"
Picquet shrugged: Since noon,
mon capitaine."
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 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 dirty hand to-
ward the forest.
Bon said I. 'Clinch. he have seen
your damn smoker
What shall I carer he make
reply. Henri Beck, to me. 'CHnch he
shall shoot and be damn to him.
cook me my de1euner all the same
Il make representations to that
Johnbull; he say to me that I am a
frog. and other injuries. while he
lay yet more wood on his sacre fire.
Then crack crack crack! and
zing-gg@whee-ee! come the big bull
lets Of Clinch and hts voyous yon.
der.
- Bon say. me, I make my ex.
cuse to retire
Then Henri Bee, he laugh and
say Hop It. frogv And that is all
he has find time to say. when crack,
spati Bien droit he has it-tenez.
mon capitaine-here. over the left
eye! Like beef surprise he go
over. crashl thump! And Ike a beef
that dies, the air bellows out from
his big lungs"
Picquet looked down at the dead
comrade in a sort Of weary COM
passion for such stupidity.
SO he pass. this ros-bff. goddaro
JOhnbull Me, I roll him IN
there Je ne sails pas pouruuoi,
Then put out the fire and
leave"
Quintana let his snsring eIancs
rest on the dead a moment. and hts
thin lip curled immemoriaI con.
tempt for the Anglo-saxon.
Then he Invested himself Of the
basket-pack which he had stolen from,
the Fry boy.
"Alors," he said calmly, eft has
been Mike Clinch who shoot my
frien' Beck. Bien."
He threw a cartridge into tbe
treech Of his rife. adjusted his am.
munition belt en- bandouliere, care
lessly.
Then. in a quiet voice: MY frien'
Picquet, the time has now arr,ve
when it become YER necessary that
we go from her away. Donc-I shall
now go kill me my frien' Mike
Clinch."
PIcquet, unastonished. gave him a
heavy, bovine look Of INQUIRY
Quintana said softly: Me. I have
enough already Of this damn woods
Why shall we starve here when there
lies our path?" He pointed north.
MS arm remained OIIfsfratcbad fo- =