White Bluffs spokesman. [volume] (White Bluffs, Wash.) 1907-1938, 1931-04-09

pictured the warrior, MS doubt and
hesitation, and was as sure in his
visioning as though no barrier lay be-
tween them. He heard grunt. The
Seneca was on his stomach, peering
of the foolishness which had made
him grovel like this. In moment, he
would rise and 60 away. But the mo-
ment passed. One-two-three-a
dozen. Toinette was like one dead
unbreathing. Odd, sensing mighty
danger, knowing that it was coming,
crouched like sphinx.
At last the silence was broken so
softly that the disturbance might have
been that Of tress Of Toinette's hair
falling from her shoulder across
Jeems' arm. The Indian had thrust in
his head. He was misunderstanding
then advancing slyly and cautiously
like ferret on the trail Of prey.
There could no longer be doubt. He
knew there was something under the
rocks and, with true Seneca courage,
foreseeing glory for himself even il
death paid for it, he was coming alone
Every instinct reached its highest
tension in Jeems as danger ap-
preached which he would be able to
touch with his hands in another mo-
ment or two. He removed himself
gently from Toinette's embrace and
prepared his arms and body for action.
Their eyes had grown more accus-
toned to the gloom, and Toinette
could see him as he crouched forward
and gathered himself for the struggle
which would mean life or death for
them. Suddenly she understood that
1t would not be struggle. When the
Seneca's head appeared Jeems' Ratchet
would smash 1t in. She could see the
hatchet. 1t was poised to strike.
There would be no cry-no moan
only that terrible, hidden sound. She
listened to the doomed man slowly
coming.
The feathers Of his tuft appeared
first, then the long black scalp lock,
the hair-plucked head, pair Of Shout
ders. Jeems put all his strength be-
hind the appraised Ratchet. He knew
there must be but one blow-well
placed in the middle of the skull. That
would end it. He almost closed his
eyes and the Ratchet descended little,
an overwhelming sense of the horror
Of the thing holding back his stroke.
1t was not simply killing: it was MUIR
der. The Seneca turned his head and
looked up. His eyes were trained for
use at night, and he saw more clearly
than Jeems. He saw the white face,
he waited, transformed to stone. No
voice came to his lips and no move
ment to his cramped body in this mo-
ment Of shock and stupefaction when
he must have realized that all the
power Of his forest gods could not
help him. The pupils Of his eyes
glowed darkly. He did not breathe.
Conscious of his impending end, he
was amazed but not terrified. His
fine countenance did not shrink from
the steel about to sink into his brain.
into Jeems' face as he paused for
moment to study the ground about
them.
For a second more the blade did
not fall, and In that second Jeems'
eyes and those Of the savage met
steadily. Then the Ratchet clattered
to the rock floor, and with protest
of revulsion at what he had almost
DONE Jeems clutched at the Seneca's
throat. The Indian was at a disad-
vantage, and though his powerful body
strained and fought to loosen the chok-
ing grip, his position was so hopeless
that in a short time he was limp and
unconscious.
The Seneca's adventure, and the
combat-if it could be distinguished
by that name-had not terminated
moment too soon for those concealed
under the rocks. The trail hunters
were now aware that the placing Of
the arrow had been a ruse to delay
them and began swarming back to the
ridge Half dozen warriors gathered
in fierce and animated debate close
about the rocks.
If Toinette's nerves were on the
point of breaking, then Odds were in
no better condition when the Senecas
returned to the ridge. His heart was
breaking in its subsection to inactivity
and stiffness. Now he looked again on
victory. His master was triumphant
as the Indians returned and crowded
about the rocks. Defiance rose in his
soul in an overwhelming flood He
hated the smell outside. He hated the
creatures who made it. Without
warning, his passion broke loose in
the bowling rage OF beast gone mad.
Toinette's arms and Jeems' hands
were futile in their efforts to stop it.
The Seneca on the stone floor moved
little.
Outside there fell an awful stiffness.
Then Odd realized what he had done
and grew quiet. They could feel
rather than hear velvet-footed, voice
less Gordon gathering about them in