The Glenwood post., 1923-04-05
CHAPTER XXI
The Man Hunt.

''S
The rolling, ravine-gullied land
where Harriet had left Eaton was
wooded thickly with oaks naples and
ash; the glare from the burning
bridge lighted the ravine for only
little way; Eaton had gained the bot
tom of the ravine beyond the point
where this light would have made him
visible and had made the best speed
he could along it away from the lights
and voices on the road. This speed
was not very great; his stock.nged
feet sank to their ankles in the soft
mud of the ravine; and when. reaiiz-
ing that he was leaving a trace easily
followed even by lantern-light. he
clambered to the steep side and tried
to travel along its slope, he found his
progress slower still. In the dark
ness he crashed sometimes full against
the tree-trunks; bushes which he could
not see seized and held him, ripping
and tearing at his clothes; invisible,
fallen saplings tripped him, and he
stepped into unseen holes which
threw him headlong, SO that twice he
rolled clear to the bottom of the
ravine with fierce, hot pains which
nearly deprived him Of his senses
shooting through his wounded shoul-
der.
When he had made, as he thought,
fully three-Quarters of a mile and
must be, allowing for the winding Of
the ravine, at least half a mile from
his pursuers, he climbed to the brink
of the bank and looked back. He was
not. as he had thought, half a mile
from the road; he was not quarter
OF mile; he could still see plainly
the lights of the three motorcars upon
the road and men moving In the faro
of these lights. He was certain that
among these men. Pursuit of him,
however, appeared to have bean
checked for the moment; he heard
neither voices nor any movement In
the woods. Eaton, painting, threw
himself down to recover breath and
strength to think.
There was no question In Eaton's
plind what his fate would be If he
surrendered to, or was captured by,
w Hul He Huu Stth III
Santoine's study an hour before was
SO unbelievable, so completely unde-
monstrabie unless he himself could
prove his story that ne felt that he
would receive no credence. Blatch-
ford, who had seen It in the light in
the study, was dead; Santoine. who
would have seen 1t If he had had eyes.
was blind. Eaton, still almost stunned
and yet wildly excited by that sight,
felt only, In the mad confusion of his
senses, the futility OF telling what he
had seen unless he were in a position
to prove 1t. Those opposed to him
would put his statement aside with
the mere answer that he was lying;
the most charltably inclined would
think only that what he had been
through had driven him insane.
Eaton understood that his possibil-
ity of escape was very small, even II
escape had been his only object; but
Eaton's problem was not one of es-
cape-it was to find those he pur.
sued and make certain that they were
captured at the same time he was;
and, as he crouehed painting on the
damp earth, he was thinking only of
that.
AS he struggled forward, impatient
at these delays, he came several
times upon narrow, unguarded roads
ana crossed them; at other times the
little wilderness which protected him
changed suddenly to well-kept lawn
where some great house with Its
garages and outbuildlngs loomesl
ahead, and afraid to cross these open
places, he was obliged to retrnce his