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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..820c2f7 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #67834 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/67834) diff --git a/old/67834-0.txt b/old/67834-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 82b5fbb..0000000 --- a/old/67834-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3206 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Adam Chaser, by B. M. Bower - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Adam Chaser - -Author: B. M. Bower - -Release Date: April 19, 2022 [eBook #67834] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Roger Frank and Sue Clark. - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADAM CHASER *** - - - - - -THE ADAM CHASER - -By B. M. Bower - -Author of “Black Thunder,” “The Meadowlark Name,” Etc. - - [Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the September 7, 1925 - issue of The Popular Magazine.] - - Treasures of the storied past, records of prehistoric settlements - of the American Indian, lure a young archaeologist, Professor - Abington, to the Sonora caves of Arizona where fate plays him - a grim trick, and makes him arbiter of the destinies of living men. - - - - -CHAPTER I--A BAD HOMBRE - - -Halfway up a long cañon that cut a six-mile gash through rugged -mountains thinly pock-marked with prospect holes, the radiator cap -of John Abington’s car blew off with a pop like amateur home-brew. - -For a matter of a minute, perhaps, that particular brand of -automobile developed a lively hot-water geyser. Followed a brief -period of steaming, and after that it stalled definitely and set -square in the trail which ran through deep sandy gravel and rock -rubble--a hot car and a sulky one, if you know what I mean. - -Abington harried the starter with vicious jabs of his heel, then -crawled reluctantly out into the blistering wind which felt as if it -were driving down the sunlight with sharp needle points of heat that -stung and smarted the skin where they struck. - -The canteens were buried deep under much camp paraphernalia, a -circumstance which gave occasion for a few minutes of eloquent -monologue. Curiously, the driver’s vituperation was directed neither -at the car nor the wind nor the heat, but at an absent individual -whom he called “Shorty”--and at another named Pete. - -Considerable luggage was shifted before the canteens were finally -excavated from the floor of the tonneau; both canteens, because the -first one was so completely empty that it made no sound when -Abington impatiently shook it. - -He was standing beside the car, mechanically sloshing a pint or so -of water in the second grimy, flat-bottomed canteen, when a -dust-covered roadster came coasting down the four-per-cent grade of -the cañon half a mile or so away. He glanced at the approaching car, -set the canteen in the sand and helped himself to a cigarette from a -silver-trimmed leather case. Abington was leaning against the rear -fender in the narrow bit of shade when the roadster came down upon -him, slowed with a squealing of dry brakes and stopped perforce. In -the rocks and deep sand that bordered the road a caterpillar truck -could scarcely have driven around the stalled car. - -“In trouble?” A perspiring tanned face leaned out, squinting ahead -into the sun through desert-wrinkled eyelids. - -“None whatever,” Abington calmly replied, smiling to make the words -cheerful. “I’m waiting here for the car to cool off a bit. I hope -you’re not in a hurry?” - -The driver of the roadster slanted a quick glance at his companion, -who slumped sidewise in the seat with his hat pulled low over his -eyes. - -“Kinda. Got plenty of water?” This in a hopeful tone, which his next -sentence explained. “I’m kinda short, myself, but I’ll hit Mina -before long, so I ain’t worrying. How much you going to need? Half a -canteen do you any good?” - -The stalled driver walked forward with a loose, negligent stride -which nevertheless covered the ground with amazing ease. From under -straight, black brows his eyes looked forth with apparent -negligence, though they saw a great deal with a flicking glance or -two. - -“It might take me back to where I can fill my canteens, sheriff. I -don’t suppose there’s a quart of water in the radiator, and -everything’s empty. My fault. I discharged a couple of men I had -with me, and I should have been on my guard against some such trick -as this. As it was, I failed to stand over them while they unloaded -their plunder from the car. At any rate, here I am for the present.” - -“Tough luck. I’ll let you have what water I’ve got, but it ain’t -much. She kept heating on me, climbing the summit. How far you -going?” - -“Back to Mina. I want to find those two fellows I let off there.” -Abington’s questing black eyes rested on the roadster’s other -occupant, shifted to the driver’s hard yet not unkindly face, and he -waved the cigarette significantly. - -“Better give this fellow a drink, before I empty the canteen.” He -nodded toward the slack figure. “And if you’ll pardon the -suggestion, sheriff, I’d turn him loose for a bit. Pretty rough -riding, even when you’ve got all your hands and feet to hang on by.” - -The other gave a short, apologetic laugh. - -“Say, this feller’s plumb mean--that’s why I got him shackled that -way. Car broke down, the other side of Tonopah, and I’m taking him -through alone. He’s a slippery cuss. Had us chasin’ him off and on -for two years. I can’t take any chances.” - -“You’re not.” If the tone was ironic the eyes were friendly enough. -“But the man looks sick. A drink of water and a smoke won’t make him -any more dangerous, I imagine.” - -“Yeah, I know he acts sick, and he looks sick. But it might be a -stall, at that,” The officer turned and eyed his prisoner -doubtfully. “I don’t want to be hard on anybody--and I don’t want to -be bashed over the bean and throwed out on the desert to die, -neither! She’s a lonely road--I’ll tell anybody.” - -For all that, he got out, unlocked the tool box on the running -board, took out a smaller box of screws, bolts, nuts and cotter -pins, fumbled within it with thumb and finger and finally produced a -small flat key. - -“Never pays to be in a hurry to git a pair of handcuffs open,” he -muttered to Abington. “This way’s safe as I can make it. He’s a bad -hombre.” - -Abington nodded understanding and stood back while the deputy -sheriff walked around the car and freed his passenger from the -handcuffs which were fastened behind his back. - -For an appreciable space the fellow drooped indifferently where he -was, not even taking the trouble to rub his chafed wrists, though -they must have pained him considerably, swollen and discolored as -they were with the snug steel bands and the awkward position forced -upon him. - -“Have a drink of water,” Abington suggested, not too kindly. More as -if he were speaking to a man who was free to go where he pleased. - -The fellow looked up at him, nodded and lifted a hand shaking from -cramp. Abington unscrewed the cap and steadied the canteen to the -man’s mouth. He drank thirstily, pushed the canteen away with the -back of his hand, lifted his hat and drew a palm across his flushed -forehead where the veins stood out like heavy cords drawn just under -the skin. - -“Thanks!” He gave Abington another glance, a gleam in his eyes as of -throttled speech. - -“Have a smoke. Here, keep the case while we’re getting the car -started.” Abington glanced at the officer. “You’ve no objection, I -suppose?” - -“Hell, no! What do you take me for? Just because I use some -precautions against being brained while I’m busy driving don’t mean -I’m hard boiled.” He sent a measuring glance toward either side of -the straight-walled cañon. Within half a mile there was no cover for -a man, and the cliffs rose sheer. “You can get out if you want to, -Bill,” he said to the prisoner. “Guess you won’t go far with them -leg irons.” - -“Thanks.” The prisoner’s voice was perfunctory, and he seemed in no -great hurry to avail himself of the privilege. While the others -walked to the stalled car--the deputy watching over his -shoulder--the prisoner sat where he was, smoking a cigarette from -Abington’s leather-and-silver case. - -The stalled car refused to start. That mechanical condition, which -is called freezing, held the cylinders locked fast until such time -as the expansion subsided, and in the fierce heat of that cañon the -motor cooled very slowly. Abington suggested coasting backward to -the first place where a turnout had been provided. - -“There’s a turnout, back here a couple of hundred yards or such a -matter. If you can give me a push over this little hump, I think the -car will roll down the road easily enough,” he explained. “I’ll have -to keep it in the road, sheriff, or I could manage alone.” - -The deputy rather liked being called sheriff, and he was anxious to -reach Carson City that evening with his prisoner. Until Abington’s -car moved out of the way, he himself was stalled, since he could not -move forward more than the hundred feet which separated the two -cars. There was no other road down that cañon. - -“If Bill Jonathan wasn’t feeling so tough, I’d take off the hobbles -and make him get out and help,” he grumbled, looking back at the -roadster. “But I guess he’s sick, all right. He ain’t left the car -yet. Well, you get in and hold ’er in the ruts, Mister” - -“My name is Abington. I’m an archaeologist--” - -“That right? My name’s Park. I’m sure glad to meet you, Doctor -Abington. Heard a lot about you and them petrified animals and -things you’ve been digging up. Got the brake off? All right--” - -But the best he could do, just at first, was to rock the car a few -inches each way. Between shoves he looked over his shoulder. The -prisoner apparently preferred the shade of the car to the heat of -the sun, and Park soon ceased to worry about him. Midway between -Tonopah and Mina would be a poor spot to choose for a walk away, -even if the man were free to walk, he reflected. - -However desperate he might be, Bill Jonathan was no fool. He knew -well enough that Park would shoot at the first hint of trouble. The -deputy grunted and turned his attention to the work at hand. - -Abington got out and helped claw the hot loose sand away from behind -the rear wheels, got in again and steered while Park braced himself -and heaved against the front fender. The car moved backward nearly a -foot, and the two grinned triumphantly at one another. - -“Next time--I’ll get her--Doctor Abington!” the deputy puffed, -glancing over his shoulder as he mopped trickles of sweat from face -and neck. A thin wreath of cigarette smoke waved out from the -prisoner’s side of the roadster, and Park grinned at Abington behind -the wheel. - -“Hope you’re well fixed for cigarettes!” He chuckled good-humoredly. -“Bill’s trying to smoke enough to last till he gets outa the pen, -looks like.” - -“He’s welcome,” Abington returned, a smile hidden under his pointed -black beard. “I’ve plenty more.” - -“Just as you say. All right, let’s give her another shove. Gosh, -it’s hot!” - -Grunting and straining, Park moved the car three feet backward to -where a nest of small stones halted it again. Encouraged by the -small progress, the two knelt again behind the rear wheels and began -to paw a clear path in the gravel. The “hump,” one of those small -ridges which characterized desert roads, would be passed within the -next six feet. - -At the precise moment when Park was kneeling with his back half -turned from his own car, he heard his starter whir with an instant -roar of the motor just under a full feed of gas. - -The roadster shot backward up the trail, guided evidently by guess -and a helpful divinity, since Bill Jonathan’s head never once -appeared outside the car to watch the trail behind him. Park jumped -up, pulled his old-fashioned range-model Colt and fixed six shots in -rapid succession, evidently realizing that he must get them all in -before the car was out of range. With the sixth shot the glass was -seen to fly from a headlight, then the hammer clicked futilely -against an empty shell. - -Park swore as he started running up the trail after the car, the -driver’s head now plainly in sight as he leaned out and watched the -road. A good fifteen miles an hour he was making in reverse; and -unless a car came down the cañon and stopped him as Park had been -halted, for the simple reason that he could not turn out, Bill -Jonathan seemed in a fair way of making his escape. - -“The damn fool! He can’t get far with them leg irons on!” Park -grunted, coming to a stop where the roadster had stood. “That’s what -I get for being so damn soft hearted! I told you he was a bad -hombre, Doctor Abington!” - - - - -CHAPTER II--SYMBOLS OF MYSTERY - - -Abington walked forward a few steps, stooped and picked up his -cigarette case from the hot sand of the trail. - -“Spencer founded his whole philosophy on the premise that there is a -soul of goodness even in things evil,” he observed with the little -hidden smile tucked into the corners of his black-bearded lips. -“Your man has made off with your car, but he very thoughtfully -returned my cigarette case--not altogether empty, either. Not -knowing I have a full carton in the car, he has left us a cigarette -apiece; which proves the soul of goodness within the evil. Will you -have a smoke, sheriff?” - -“Might as well, I guess,” Park grumbled, his eyes on the departing -car. “This is a hell of a note! Doctor Abington, what we’ve got to -do is make it in to Mina and get word out to the different towns -before Bill can make Tonopah or Goldfield. - -“Thunder! Who’d ever think he’d try to pull off a stunt like that? I -was going to take the irons off his legs, but I kinda had a hunch -not to. Never dreamed he’d pull out with the car while his legs was -shackled; did you?” - -“I’m afraid my mind was quite taken up with my own problem.” -Abington confessed in a slightly apologetic tone. “I’m not -accustomed to chasing live men, you know. It’s the dead ones I’m -interested in, and the longer they’ve been dead the better. - -“Nevertheless, sheriff, I realize your predicament. If there’s a -long-distance telephone in Mina you can intercept the fellow at -Tonopah, I should think.” He was thoughtfully turning the cigarette -case over in his fingers as if his habit was to admire its glossy -brown leather and the silver filigree. Now he slipped it into his -pocket and turned to retrace his steps. - -“I suppose we ought to get the old boat headed down the trail, -sheriff. Your prisoner went off with your canteen, you know, so -we’ll have to pet my motor along as best we can. But she’ll roll -down the cañon in neutral, and then we’ll drive it as far as we -can--which may not be far. - -“At the turnout, down the road here, I’ll get the car headed in the -other direction, and it wouldn’t surprise me if we beat your man in, -after all. Will he have gas enough to take him to Tonopah?” - -“Lord, yes! I filled the tank plumb full, and it’s one of them old -thirty-gallon tanks. But somebody’ll maybe run across him trying to -fill the radiator or something, and see the leg irons and take him -in. Tires ain’t none too good--maybe he’ll have tire trouble. I sure -hope so,” he added unnecessarily. - -Abington, leaning to push at the side of the car while he kept one -hand on the steering wheel, did not answer. Park added his weight at -the front fender, straining until his gloomy countenance went -purple. The car rolled over the hump, and Abington hopped nimbly to -the running board, watched his chance and straddled in behind the -wheel. - - * * * * * - -Some time was lost in negotiating the turn. After that, coasting -down the road with a dead engine cooled the cylinders considerably. -By skillful management Abington was able to start the motor and use -what power was needed to drive the car up over certain small knolls -near the foot of the cañon. - -At the edge of the long valley, a hill gave them momentum sufficient -to carry them well down toward a white, leprous expanse, called Soda -Lake, with a tiny settlement a few miles beyond. Here, in the chuck -holes of the soda-incrusted lake bed, the car refused to go any -farther without power, and power in that grilling heat required a -full radiator. - -Even so, the two made fair time walking, and at the settlement -Abington was able to hire a man to haul water out to the car. Also, -Park was successful in getting wires through to the sheriff’s office -at Tonopah, and also at Goldfield, the only points he believed Bill -Jonathan would attempt to reach. - -“If you like, sheriff, we can follow up your man at once,” Abington -suggested when Park came out of the telegraph office looking less -worried. “I’m willing to postpone the pleasure of chastising Shorty -and Pete, and drive you straight through to Tonopah. Water is the -only thing I needed for the trip, and the man is waiting out here -with a full supply, ready to drive us back to my car. At the most we -will be only three hours behind the fugitive and, as you say, he -can’t do much with leg irons on. - -“He’ll need to have a remarkable run of luck if he reaches there -ahead of us. For instance, your motor had been heating, and you had -only half a canteen of water. As I remember the road, there’s a -long, hard climb for several miles beyond that cañon. He’ll be -compelled to fill up with water at that spring just over the summit; -one stop, at least, where he will have enough awkward walking to -hold him there twice as long as a man with his legs free. So--” - -“Say, Doctor Abington, you sure can figure things out!” Park grinned -while he bit the end off a forlorn-looking cigar he had just bought -at the little store. “You ought to be a detective.” - -“I am. I’ve been trying to detect the origin of the human race, for -years now,” Abington smiled. “It’s the same kind of figuring brought -down to modern conditions. If you’re ready, sheriff, we’ll get -underway.” - -So back they went, roaring up the long rough trail to the cañon and -on to Tonopah. They did not meet a soul on the way, nor did they -overtake Bill Jonathan and the roadster. Neither did they glimpse -anywhere a sign of his turning aside from the main highway, though -Park’s eyes watered from watching intently the trail. - -Abington proved to be a scientifically reckless driver and a silent -one withal. Within an incredibly short time he landed a grateful -deputy at the sheriff’s office in Tonopah, bade him an unperturbed -adieu, drove his car into a garage and established himself -comfortably in the best hotel the town afforded--all with the brisk, -purposeful air of one who is clearing away small matters so that he -may take up the business which really engrosses his mind. - -In his room at the hotel John Abington dragged the most comfortable -chair directly under the two-globe chandelier, lighted a cigarette -from the pasteboard box which he took from his pocket, and pulled -out the leather cigarette case as if this was what he had been all -along preparing to do. - -“Got a tack from the upholstery, no doubt, for a stylus,” he mused. -“Old car--binding probably loose on the door pocket--that’s where it -gives first. H’m! That’s what he waited for. Knew he meant to -escape, of course--saw it in his eyes. H’m! Let’s see, now.” - -Abington blew a cloud of smoke and thoughtfully examined the case as -he turned it over slowly in his hand, just as he had done when he -picked it up in the cañon road. - -As he studied it his lips moved in that silent musing speech which -was his habit --the black beard offering perfect concealment for his -soundless whisperings. - -“H’m! Clever of him--hieroglyphics adapted to code work. Let’s see. -The old Babylonian ‘chain of evil’--three links, meaning ‘not so -bad.’ Following that, a man. Humph! That’s Bill himself, no doubt. - -“Nest--h’m!--that’s Egyptian; the old Egyptian symbol denoting the -number of days in a journey, but with the Babylonian and Manchurian -moon month at the end. Probably meant a month’s journey, and didn’t -know the sign for it. Bill, my lad, you show intelligence above the -average layman, at least. - -“Now, what’s all this? Water sign, mountains, stopping place-- Bill -descended to picture writing there, I see! That’s the mountain -across from my camp where I took Bill in and fed him--gave him my -best hiking boots, too, by Jove! My camp by the river-- Bill, you -are ingenious! - -“Without a doubt you wish me to understand that within a month you -will be at my old camp by the river--counting on more food and more -boots, perhaps! H’m! I don’t just know about that. - -[Illustration: Bill’s message, written in hieroglyphics such as are -found among the rock carvings of Nevada.] - -“Don’t see how you are going to make it. Handicap too heavy. Doubt -whether I myself could overcome the obstacles--leg irons, officers -on the watch, posses on the trail, three hundred miles to go-- Bill, -old fellow, if you make it you’ll prove yourself a man worth -helping! You won’t get half the distance--but if you do, you may -have my next-best boots and welcome!” - -Abington turned the case over, held it closer to the light, frowned -and gave a faint whistle at what he saw. He had supposed that the -message had been repeated here as a precaution against his failure -to notice the barely discernible markings in the leather on the -other side. - -But as he peered sharply at the fine indentations his eyes -brightened with interest. For although the river and the -stopping-place symbols were repeated, and the string of tiny circles -which signified the number of days’ journeying, the plural sign was -there just below them. At the end of the journey, mountains--but -they were indicated by the conventional, premodified Manchurian -symbol and, close by, the sign of a mummy. - -“What the deuce!” breathed Abington, pulling black eyebrows -together. “He’s blundered there--maybe means he’ll leave my camp -only in custody. No, by Jove! That can’t be it, either.” - -For a long time he sat motionless except when he turned the -cigarette case for a renewed scrutiny of the other side. The message -that had seemed so simple presented an unexpected little twist of -mystery. - -Bill Jonathan, pursued by the chain of evil, meant to journey for -perhaps a month and arrive at John Abington’s camp in the mountains -that bordered the river. That much seemed fairly plain, and one -would logically expect no further information at present. - -But there was more to it, apparently. Bill had not sat in that -roadster idly scratching hieroglyphics on the cigarette case of an -archaeologist just to pass the time away. Meaning to escape in the -car, uncertain too of the number of minutes at his disposal, he must -have grudged every second of delay while he worked out his message. - -Abington permitted his cigarette to go out while he brooded over -those crude lines. His thoughts harked back to the time, four months -before, when Bill Jonathan had come limping into camp, crippled with -stone bruises from traveling the rough granite hills in thin-soled -shoes worn to tattered leather. He had been hungry, too, by the -manner in which he wolfed his first meal whenever he thought -Abington was not looking his way. - -He had not told his name, and Abington had taken the hint and asked -no questions. Bill had called himself a prospector, said he had an -outfit back in the hills and had come down to Abington’s camp to see -if he could rustle a pair of boots and a little tobacco. A likable -fellow, Abington had found him; one of those rare individuals who -can display an intelligent interest in the other fellow’s subject. - -Abington at that time had been searching out and recording with a -camera all the ancient rock carvings along the river. While Bill’s -feet were healing he had wanted to know all about the various -symbols and their meanings. He had told Abington of two or three -cañons where writings could be found, and he had discussed with -Abington the possibility of finding petrified human remains-- - -“By Jove!” Abington ejaculated, straightening suddenly in his chair. -“I wonder if that is not what he means! That we’ll both journey to a -spot in the mountains where I can find my fossilized man!” - -The idea once implanted in his mind, Abington could not seem to get -rid of it. Without a doubt, that was the meaning Bill had meant to -convey; that he had found the fossil man which would mean more to -Abington than a gold mine--for such is the peculiar point of view -held by scientists of a certain school. - -“Told him that mummy symbol indicated a burial--remember we -discussed it. He recognized the sign from having seen one on a rock. -I told him it undoubtedly meant that some one had been buried there. -H’m! Nothing else he could mean. Wasn’t sitting in that car drawing -marks for fun. Couldn’t write a message. Afraid Park might pick up -the case, no doubt. Too bad--handicapped too heavily. Never will -make it.” - -Nevertheless Abington loitered for four days in Tonopah, though he -had no business to hold him there. He heard nothing of an escaped -convict being captured in that part of the country, so finally went -his way. - -He had meant to hire more men and carry his explorations over into -Utah, but the sporting instinct for once prevailed over scientific -zeal. He still believed that Bill would never make it--that the -“chain of evil” was too strong. But being an archaeologist, he had -learned the sublime lesson of a patient, plodding persistence that -simply ignores failure. Abington returned alone to a field already -pretty thoroughly covered, and rëestablished his old camp by the -river. There he sat himself down to wait, with a brooding patience -not unlike the eternal hills that hemmed him in. - - - - -CHAPTER III--ON THE JUMP - - -Into the firelight Bill Jonathan came walking one evening, barely -within the month he had given himself in the symbolic message. Face -drawn and sallow, eyes staring out from under his hat brim with a -glassy dullness born of hunger, fever and fatigue mingled, perhaps, -with that never-sleeping fear which dogs the soul of the hunted. But -none of this showed in his manner, nor in his greeting which gave -the arrival a casual note. - -“Hello, professor! Got my message, I see. Well, I had one merry heck -of a trip, but here I am.” He dropped down where he could lean -against Abington’s favorite camp boulder--lean there at ease or -crawl swiftly out of sight behind the broken ledge, Abington -observed with that negligent, flicking glance of his. Another glance -dropped briefly to Bill’s ankles, and Bill laughed wryly. - -“Didn’t think I meant to wear them things permanent, did you, -professor? Hell, I ain’t no Aztec princess, going around with -anklets on that’d sink a whale. No, I was up at the old Honey Boy -Mine, in the blacksmith shop, setting on a bench with one foot in a -vise, filing faster than a buzz saw when I heard you folks go past, -down in the gulch. At least, I s’pose it was you folks, because it -was a cinch nobody would pass you in the cañon, and I had it doped -out you’d roll down to where you could get water, and come chasing -me up. Hauled my nursemaid on into Tonopah, I’ll bet!” - -“I did that.” Abington smiled, tossing Bill his cigarette case -before opening a can of baked beans while the coffee heated. “I -really didn’t think you’d make it, though. Handicap too heavy.” - -Bill accepted the cigarette case, pausing to eye with prideful -interest the markings. He lighted a cigarette and relishfully -inhaled three gratified mouthfuls before he spoke. - -“If you mean them irons, I didn’t wear ’em long. Just till I could -get the bus up to the old Honey Boy. Wonder you didn’t spot the -place where I turned off--maybe you did. It was on your side the -road.” He saw Abington nod, and grinned appreciatively. “Well, it -rained some that night, and that helped dim the tracks. Nobody came -near the mine; not while I was there, anyhow. - -“Friend Park had a fair lot of grub in the back of the car, and I -rustled a little more at the mine. Waited till dark and beat it back -down the cañon and over to Bishop. Made Randsburg, drove the car -over a cliff into a brushy cañon just before I got there, walked in -with an old bed roll I’d fixed up at the Honey Boy, as good a -blanket stiff as the next one! Worked there a week and blew out -again, first pay day--hit it just right, as it happened. - -“Hoboed to San Berdoo, doubled back to Needles--hanging tight to my -blanket roll and my time check to show I’d worked not so long ago. -And I’ve been hoofing it up the river since then.” - -Abington nodded again and pulled the coffeepot off the coals, using -a crooked stick for the purpose. It may have occurred to him that -crooked sticks are sometimes more useful than straight ones, for he -gave Bill Jonathan an unhurried measuring look as he extended a cup -of black coffee. - -“That mummy sign, Bill. Did you mean by that you had discovered more -ancient writings, or did you by any chance refer to skeletal -remains?” - -Bill took a great swallow of coffee and set down the cup. His tired -eyes brightened in the fire glow. “Maybe you’d call ’em skeletons, -professor--I’d say they’re rock. All you want. Thought you’d like to -take a look at ’em. So when we met up with you on the way to Carson -I made up my mind I wouldn’t wait till I was turned loose. You might -be to hell an’ gone by that time, or some nosey Adam chaser might -run acrost ’em. I seen last spring how you’ve got your heart set on -finding the granddaddy of all men, or some such thing, and I’d kinda -hate to see anybody beat you to it. So I made my git-away in order -to show you where they’re at.” - - * * * * * - -Having thus explained the matter to his own satisfaction, Bill -forthwith began to empty the can of beans in a manner best pleasing -to himself. - -John Abington poked absently at the fire, gently rapping upon a -burning juniper branch until it broke under the blows, spurting -sparks as it fell into the coals. - -“Adam chasers, as you call it, are not so numerous in this country,” -he said softly. “Not nearly so numerous as--er--deputy sheriffs.” - -Bill Jonathan leaned sidewise, reached the coffeepot and refilled -his cup. “Yeah, I get you,” he said finally. “But this is wild -country we’re going into. I ain’t taking such an awful chance, now I -got this far. I was duckin’ sheriffs when I found these stone men. -I’ve got to go on duckin’ sheriffs anyway--that, or else let ’em -ketch me and put me in for five or ten years. It’s six one way and a -half dozen the other. - -“This is how I’ve got it doped out, professor. You and me throw in -together. I’ll show you Adam--or his wife’s folks, anyway--and you -furnish me with grub and tobacco so I don’t have to show up where I -can be nabbed. I’ll draw on you for supplies and keep along close -without trailing right with you. So you won’t get in bad if it’s -found out I’m in the hills.” He looked across the fire at Abington. -“How’s it strike you, professor?” - -Over and over Abington had considered this very point during his -month of waiting. It all depended on Bill himself, he had decided. -Some men are so constituted that preying upon society is second -nature to them. Others fall afoul of the law through no real -criminal intent. There is a vast difference between the two types, -Abington knew. It all depended on Bill. - -“I never did function as guardian angel to escaped convicts,” -Abington said with brutal directness. “Laws are better kept than -broken, as you will probably agree, and it ill becomes a loyal -citizen to help any man dodge the penalty for his misdeeds. On the -other hand, even lawbreakers may contribute something to the general -welfare of the world. Discovering the skeletal relics of a man of -the Cretaceous period may not materially help to liquidate the -national debt, but it would be a priceless contribution to the -scientific knowledge of the human race.” - -“Yeah, and I can go on and finish that argument, myself. I can’t do -no more damage to society while I’m herdin’ with the coyotes, and if -I can help you find what you’re lookin’ for, that’s better than -loafin’ around doing time in Carson. So you won’t be doing nothing -worse than taking a boarder off the hands of the State. That’s about -the way you doped it out, ain’t it, professor?” - -“Essentially the same, yes,” Abington admitted. “I’m glad you have -so thorough an understanding of the matter. I think if your offense -was not too great I could perhaps get you paroled and placed in my -charge, but that would take time and-- They’ve just discovered -the skull of an ape man in Rhodesia, Bill! I’d give a good deal to -be able to show them a Cretaceous man found in America.” - -Bill leaned back with a sigh of repletion and lighted his second -cigarette. “Well, I dunno how Cretaceous they are, professor, but -they’re fossils all right enough. Stone, anyway, way back in a -cave--you have to crawl on your belly quite a ways, where I went in. -I guess maybe there’s another opening somewhere. I didn’t look for -it. I had pinon knots for torches, and I lit a fresh one soon as I -come into this chamber--or cave. And when the blaze showed them -stone skeletons-- Say, professor, I backed right out the same way -I’d went in!” - -“How do you know they were fossilized? They may have been modern--no -more than a hundred years old! They may even have been frontiersmen -trapped in there while trying to escape from hostile Indians.” -Abington’s tone was crisp. - -“I went back,” Bill declared calmly. “Got over my scare and wanted -to see for sure whether them skeletons was twelve feet high like -they looked to be, or just plain man size. So I looked good, next -time in. There was four, and the biggest wasn’t over eight feet. And -they was solid stone, far as I could tell.” - -“I don’t suppose you could describe the geologic conditions--I shall -have to determine that, of course, when I arrive at the spot.” - -During five minutes Bill smoked and silently eyed the archaeologist, -who sat meditatively tapping another burned stick into coals. - -“One thing I better tell you, professor,” he ventured at last, -vaguely stirred by the rapt look in Abington’s dark eyes. “There’s a -lot more to it than just arriving ‘at the spot,’ as you say. When I -went into that cave, I was scared in. There’s something up in there -that got my goat. I beat it outa there--that’s how I got nabbed by -the law. - -“I can’t tell you what it is, professor. Some kinda animal. Makes -tracks like a mountain sheep--but it ain’t a sheep; or if it is-- -All I can say is that us Adam chasers will have to keep our eyes -peeled.” - - - - -CHAPTER IV--THE FOOTPRINT CLEW - - -Abington stood absolutely motionless with his head drooped forward, -his narrowed eyes surveying with brief, darting glances his -devastated camp. The small brown tent, lying in a tattered heap with -slits crisscrossing one another in the balloon silk which was so -light to carry--and so costly--received a second scrutiny. The camp -supplies, which had been neatly piled just where he had unloaded -them from the two burros that carried his own outfit, were strewn -about in indescribable disorder, as if a drove of hogs had held -carnival there for an hour or so. - -Because of the view it gave of the fantastic, red-sandstone crags -across the valley, Abington had pitched his camp on a smooth hard -ledge a few feet above the level with a cliff at his back and a -spring of good water hidden away in a tiny cleft in the cañon at his -right. It was a cool, sightly spot, free from bothersome ant hills -or weedy growth that might harbor rattlesnakes or other venomous -creatures. - -True to his word, Bill Jonathan camped apart from Abington. In this -particular location he had chosen a cave half a mile up the -cañon--and he had immediately set about walling up the entrance so -that he must squeeze in between two rocks which he could move across -the aperture at night. - -“Getting close to the range of that gosh-awful thing, professor,” he -had explained. “Better hunt a hole yourself and crawl into -it--’specially at night. And you want to keep your eyes peeled, and -don’t go prowlin’ around without your gun or a knife or something.” - -Abington liked his little brown-silk tent, however, and he was not -particularly impressed by the gosh-awfulness of the thing which Bill -Jonathan could not even describe--he having failed to catch so much -as a glimpse of it, as he had been forced to admit under Abington’s -repeated questioning. - -Here was the ruin left by some animal, however, and Abington found -himself completely at a loss as he circled the camp, going slowly -and studying the wreckage foot by foot. On the ledge itself he did -not expect to see any tracks. He walked therefore to the edge of the -hard-pan and examined the softer gravel at the foot of the two-foot -slope. - -There, cleanly outlined in a finer streak of red gravelly sand, he -discovered the imprint of a pointed, cloven foot; a gigantic sheep, -by the track, or possibly an elk, though elk were not known in that -country. - -For some minutes he stood there looking for other tracks. When he -found one, he whistled under his breath. From the length of the -stride indicated by that second hoofprint he judged that this -particular animal must be considerably larger than a caribou. -“Gosh-awful” it certainly must be! - -Abington stared down the wash, for a moment tempted to follow the -tracks. But with night coming on and an empty stomach clamoring to -be filled, he hesitated. There was the wrecked camp to set to rights -and such supplies as had not been destroyed must be gathered -together and placed where this malicious-minded animal could not -reach them again. - -Moreover, the tracks might not be fresh, for the damage could have -been done at any time during the afternoon while he and Bill were -exploring a complex assortment of crooked ravines, tangled at the -head of the larger one where Bill had prepared to hole up in gloomy -security. - -Abington was thoughtfully regarding a sack of flour that had been -slashed lengthwise and dragged in wanton destructiveness half across -the ledge, when Bill Jonathan’s voice sounded behind him, swearing a -dismayed oath. - -“Looks like it’s been here a’ready!” Bill gasped, when Abington -turned and glanced at him. - -“Looks as though something has been here,” Abington agreed. “Very -unusual incident, in some of the details. Certain incongruities can -scarcely be accounted for until I have further investigated the -matter. I have had a herd of wild elephants stampede through camp, -and I know the work of every marauding animal from jungle tigers to -the wolverines of Canada. But I have never seen anything quite like -this. - -“For instance,” he went on, “the slits in that tent plainly started -from the peak and extended downward, with an upward thrust near the -bottom, leaving a triangular rent. Any horned animal that could rip -a tent like that invariably lowers the head and gores with an upward -toss. So does a hog. Certain indications would seem to point to a -wild hog--or a drove of them!--but I believe the longest slits in -the tent were accomplished while it was still standing. - -“You will observe,” he continued, “that the rents are spaced with a -regularity impossible to attain while the material lay bundled in a -heap on the ground. The cloth has not been chewed, therefore it -could not be the work of wild cattle. Moreover, that sack of salt -was not touched. Wouldn’t you suppose, Bill, that any herbivorous -animal would smell the salt and go after it first?” - -“Yeah, but it don’t ever touch salt, professor. Not as far as I -know. Did it leave any tracks?” - -“Down here in the sand are some enormous hoofprints resembling sheep -or elk tracks, Bill. From its stride the beast must be as large as a -camel.” - -“Yeah, and I’ve known it to leave mule tracks behind it!” Bill -declared glumly. “Now, maybe you’ll want to crawl into my cave, -professor!” - -“I may decide to let you store what supplies are left, but I myself -don’t fancy caves except for research work. By the way, did you -notice any eoliths in that cave of yours, Bill?” - -“I dunno. Killed a scorpion about four inches long and his tail -curled up. You ain’t afraid of bugs, are you, professor?” - - * * * * * - -Abington gave him a sharp glance, but Bill was innocent and looked -it. - -“It doesn’t matter now,” Abington said, “since I shall probably -spend a week or more exploring these ravines. There should be a good -many artifacts left in the caves hereabouts. The carvings indicate -that the ancient people lived here and I have an idea that their -occupancy of this section of the country extended over considerable -period of time. This old Cretaceous sandstone gives every--” - -“Yeah, and it’ll give ’em just the same to-morrow, don’t you think, -professor? I’m going to take what’s left of the flour and cache it -away in my cave, and that can of coffee. Looks to me like the thing -was scared off before it finished the job. All the times I’ve saw it -get in its work before now, it sure was thorough! You must ’ave -scared it--” - -“In that case I may be able to catch it.” - -Abington turned and strode again to where the tracks lay printed -deep in the packed sand. He stepped down off the ledge and followed -the hoofprints, scanning each one sharply as he came to it. - -“Hey! You can’t trail that thing, professor!” Bill called anxiously. -“I tried that--once when it was a sheep and another time when it was -a mule. Tracks take to the hills and quit. - -“Aw, gwan and find out for yourself, then!” he grumbled, when -Abington merely flung up his hand to show he heard and continued -along the wash. “Won’t be satisfied to take my word--never seen such -a bullheaded cuss. But it won’t be long, old boy, till you’ll be -tickled to death if you’re able to dodge it!” - -Dusk deepened. Bill hurriedly salvaged what supplies were not -utterly destroyed, looking frequently over his shoulder when his -work would not permit him to keep his back toward the cliff. It -seemed a long while before Abington returned. - -Bill’s uneasiness had reached the point where he threw back his head -to send a loud halloo booming out into the darkness; but at that -very moment Abington came stumbling up to the ledge, leaning heavily -on a dead mescal stalk while one foot dragged. Bill leaped forward -and pulled him up the slope. - -“Rock rolled down the hill and started a slide,” Abington explained -in a flat, tired tone. “Dodged most of the rubble, but one fragment -struck against my ankle. Temporarily paralyzed my foot. Be all right -in a short time, Bill.” He sat down, breathing rather heavily. - -“Who done it?” Bill knelt and tentatively felt the injured foot. - -“No one, so far as I know. I am not sure, of course, but my -impression is that the slide was purely accidental.” - -“See anything of your sheep?” - -“Too dark to detect any signs after it took to the rocks. Heard -something--up the hill. Couldn’t exactly locate the sound. Any -coffee, Bill?” - -Bill had been itching to get back to his cave and make coffee there, -but now he looked at Abington and hesitated. Neither Abington nor -any other man could laugh at Bill and call him a coward. There had -been a small pile of firewood; it was scattered around somewhere -among the débris. The coffeepot, he knew, had been flattened as if -an elephant had stepped on it; but he could find a can that would -serve. - - * * * * * - -He groped for the wood, found it and got a fire started. A cheerful -light pushed back the shadows, making them eerier than when all was -gloom. He set about supper of a sort, keeping his back to the ledge -with a persistence that might have amused Abington if he had not -been wholly occupied with the mystery that had impinged upon an -otherwise uneventful trip. - -“I can’t fathom it,” he said at last, speaking half to himself. “It -is not a mountain sheep, I’m certain of that. Those slits in the -tent and the salt sack ignored--those two details alone place the -depredations apart from the work of any such animal.” - -“Yeah, there ain’t no such animal!” Bill looked up to remark. “Now -you know why I wanted a gun, professor. You thought it was for -killing sheriffs, maybe, but you was wrong there. I told you there -was something up here we’d have to look out for. I asked you to get -me a gun, because I ain’t got much hopes of killin’ this thing by -throwin’ rocks at it. That’s why.” - -“I’m sorry, Bill, but I really couldn’t buy you a gun,” Abington -told him gravely. “And I don’t think you will need one. The beast -keeps himself out of sight, it seems. It isn’t likely to attack -either of us.” - -“Well, I’d about as soon be attacked as scared to death,” Bill -demurred. “That’s just it, professor. I wouldn’t give a cuss if I -could look the thing over, once. What I hate is coming in and -finding camp demolished and the grub all throwed out and nothing you -can fight back at. Well, here’s your coffee. It’s about all I could -find to cook, in the dark.” - -They drank the coffee in silence, even the self-contained Abington -pausing every minute or so to stare into the darkness, listening. It -was a nerve-trying pastime which netted them nothing in the way of -enlightenment. - -What it cost Bill to shoulder a load of more-or-less damaged -supplies and go off alone up the cañon, his way lighted only by the -stars, Abington could only guess. In justice to the peace officers -of the county he could not give the man a gun, and he sensed that -Bill was really afraid of the unknown marauder, and with good -reason, Abington was forced to admit. - -Bill had been hunted from camp to camp by the thing which he had -never seen. He had been robbed and his food supplies destroyed until -at last he had fled the place only to fall into the hands of the -watchful sheriff. Abington couldn’t blame Bill for his fears. All -the same, Abington did not want to place a gun in the hands of an -escaped prisoner. That, it seemed to him, would be going rather -strong, even in the interests of science. - -He was sitting with his back against the cliff with the dying fire -before him, rubbing his numbed ankle to which sensation was -returning with sharp stabs of pain, when Bill came up out of the -cañon mouth with his bundle still on his shoulders and his eyes -staring. - -“It’s been to the cave,” he announced in a suppressed tone. “Clawed -out the rocks I walled the opening up with and raised hell with my -stuff. Professor, how bad do you want them stone Adamses?” - - - - -CHAPTER V--GALLOPING BURROS - - -Across the valley the moon peered over a jagged pinnacle, looking as -if broken teeth had bitten deep into its lower rim. That effect was -soon brushed away as the pale disk swung higher, and the blood-red -sandstone peaks stood fantastically revealed in the swimming -radiance. The valley straightway became enchanted ground wherein -fairy folk might dance on the smooth sand strips or play laughing -games of hide and seek among the strange pillars and jutting crags. - -Beside the dying fire Bill Jonathan dozed, head bent with now and -then an involuntary drop forward, whereupon he would rouse and -glance sharply to left and right--the habit of a man who knows -himself hunted, a man whose safety lies in unsleeping vigilance. - -“Lie down on the tent, Bill,” Abington advised him, after his third -startled awakening. “Lie down and make yourself comfortable. -To-morrow you can watch while I sleep.” - -“Aw, I can keep awake, professor. All that climbing around to-day -made me kinda tired, is all. If I know you’re asleep, I’ll keep my -eyes open wide enough.” - -“But I don’t want to sleep, Bill. This little mystery must be solved -before we go any farther with our chief business. Couldn’t sleep if -I wanted to.” - -“You’ll stay awake a darn long while, professor, if you wait to put -salt on the tail of the thing that haunts this valley,” Bill opined. - -Abington calmly knocked the dottle from his pipe and began to refill -it, ready for another long, meditative smoke. “For every problem in -the universe there is a correct answer,” he said quietly. “It is -only our ignorance that makes mysteries of things simple enough in -themselves. A peculiar arrangement of details has given this -‘gosh-awful’ animal of yours an air of mystery, but the explanation -is simple enough, I’ll guarantee.” - -“Yeah, but how are you going to find this explanation--that you -think is so darned simple?” Bill stifled a yawn. - -“Just as I find the meaning of the hieroglyphics; by studying the -symbols already familiar to me, and from them arriving at the -natural relation of the unknown characters. This thing left tracks, -and it managed to accomplish a certain amount of destruction in a -given time. To-morrow morning I’ll take a look at your cave, and the -answer to the puzzle will not be so hard to find as you imagine.” - -Bill mumbled a half-finished sentence and lay down on the torn tent, -and presently the rhythmic sound of snoring hushed the strident -chorus of stone crickets on the ledge. - -Until the moon had swum its purple sea and reached shore on the -western rim of the valley, Abington lounged beside the cliff, so -quiet that any observer might have thought him asleep. For a time -his pipe sent up a thin column of aromatic smoke, then went cold; -and after that only the moonlight shining on his wide-open eyes -betrayed the fact that Abington was very much awake. - -An owl hooted monotonously in the cañon at his right, probably near -the spring. A coyote yammered on the steep hillside across the cañon -mouth, and a little later Abington heard the frightened, squealing -cry of a rabbit caught unawares by that coyote or another. - -On a cliff just over his head, shadowed now as the moon slipped -behind the hill, the ancient people he was tracing had carved -intricate tribal records. These had endured far beyond the last -vague legend of those whose valor had thus been blazoned before -their little world, a world that had seemed so vast and -imperishable, no doubt, to heroes and historians alike. - -It seemed to him that here was a land well fitted to hold the full -story of these forgotten lives. Could he but find it, and read it -aright, might not his own name be blazoned before his own people--to -be forgotten perchance in ages to come, as these were forgotten now? - - * * * * * - -The cave that held fast the bones of these ancients lay somewhere in -the bewildering maze of cañons across the valley. Bill Jonathan -would recognize the spot, so he had declared whenever Abington -questioned him. A certain rock on the cañon’s northern rim, shaped -like the head of a huge rhinoceros with two tusks on his snout--Bill -was positive he could not miss it, once he got inside the cañon. The -opening to the cave was directly under the first tusklike rock -spire. A matter of ten miles perhaps, Bill had guessed as he stood -on the ledge and gazed across. - -Here on this side were caves and even with the hope of finding the -fossil skeletons Bill had described, Abington had wanted to explore -these before going on. He still wanted to do so, if he and Bill -could manage to hunt down the unknown pillager of camps, or at least -guard their supplies against further depredations. If the raid on -Bill’s cave had been as complete as on his own camp, he would be -compelled to postpone all research work while he plodded with the -burros to the nearest town for fresh supplies. Bill could not go, -that was certain. - -At daybreak Abington was planning drowsily to send Bill up the cañon -after the burros, load on what was left of the outfit and cross -immediately to the other side of the valley, where they would -endeavor to find the skeletons first of all and be sure of them -before he went out for supplies. He would then be able to take out -specimens to send on to his museum, thus saving a bothersome trip -later on. - -His hand reached out to shake Bill’s leg and rouse him to the day’s -work, when a great clattering sounded in the cañon mouth near by. -Bill needed no shaking to bring him to his feet. As the two -automatically faced toward the noise, there came the three burros in -a panicky gallop out of the cañon and into the open. - -In one great leap Bill left the ledge and ran yelling and flailing -his arms to head them off before they stampeded down the valley. The -leading burro, a staid, mouse-colored little beast, swerved from -him, wheeled toward the hills opposite, stumbled and fell in a heap. -The second kept straight on down the valley, the third burro at its -heels. Bill let them go while he ran to the fallen leader. - -Though it took but a minute to cover the short distance, the burro’s -eyes were already glazing when Bill arrived. As he stopped and bent -over it a shuddering convulsion seized its legs and immediately it -stiffened. It was dead. - -Bill stood dumfounded, eying it stupidly for a moment before he -turned to call Abington. But the shout died in his throat, for his -glance had fallen upon a fresh disaster. The two other burros were -down and kicking convulsively, just as the first had done. They were -dead before he could reach them. - -Abington was not in sight when Bill, walking heavily under the -burden of this new tragedy, returned to the ledge; but presently he -came limping out of the cañon and into camp. - -“I thought I could discover what had stampeded the burros,” Abington -said, coming up with an indefinable air of surprise that Bill should -be standing there passive with that blank look on his face. “Too -late, again. If it was the gosh-awful, he’d disappeared before I -could get up there. Did you head off the burros? I want to move camp -this morning.” - -“Yeah--but you’ll have to git along without ’em this morning. The -damn things is dead.” - -Abington looked at him, looked past him to where Bill pointed an -unsteady finger. He got off the ledge and limped over to the nearest -carcass, looked it over carefully, walked to the others and examined -them, and returned thoughtfully to camp. - -Bill had kindled a fire and was starting off to the spring with an -empty bucket when Abington stopped him. - -“Hey, come back here! Don’t use any water from that spring.” - -“Yeah? Where will I use water from, then?” - -“From a canteen. I filled two yesterday. The burros were at the -spring this morning and stampeded from there. I can’t be certain -yet, of course, but I think the water is poisoned.” - -Bill stared, his jaw sagging. Abington was looking out across the -valley, his eyes narrowed and blacker than Bill had ever seen them. - -“I may be wrong, Bill, but we can’t afford to take a chance. One -burro might suddenly pass out with heart failure, but when three of -them turn up their toes in the same way and at the same moment, the -coincidence will bear investigation, I think!” - -“How could that sheep thing poison a spring?” Bill’s tone implied -violent incredulity. - -“I don’t know. I’m merely stating what appears to be a fact. Three -burros drank at that spring and afterward stampeded out of the cañon -and dropped dead in the open. I’m assuming that the water in the -spring, or at least in the little pool below it, was poisoned. They -must have been scared away, else they would have died right there -near the spring. Yes, I think it will bear investigation!” - -“Yeah, but in the meantime we’ve got to have water,” Bill said -gloomily, shaking a canteen gently before he poured a little into -his makeshift coffeepot. “I don’t aim to stick around till my tongue -swells up, doing fancy thinkin’ about a poisoned spring. Suit -yourself, professor, but I’m going to hunt water, soon as we go -through the motions of eating.” - -“I suppose in time the spring will clear itself and run pure,” -Abington reassured him with a twitching of his bearded lips. “If we -were to stay here, we could divert the trickle from the rocks and -soon have another pool. But we could never be sure that it was not -poisoned again. No, Bill, we’ll have to get our belongings together -and move across the valley.” - -“A darn hard job,” muttered Bill, “packing everything on our backs.” -And he added: “That sheep thing can travel, too; don’t overlook that -fact, professor.” - - - - -CHAPTER VI--READY FOR A BLOW - - -The eastern rim of the valley stood crimson where the westering sun -struck it full, bringing into bold relief each cañon and crag, the -smallest fold and the smoothest boulder; as if a contour map had -been painstakingly modeled on a gigantic scale in red sealing wax, -or as if a world aflame had been paralyzed into utter silence. - -Toward that garish pile of shattered hills, Abington and Bill -Jonathan plodded with the low sun at their backs, which were -burdened heavily with as much of their camp supplies as they had -been able to retrieve and could carry. - -The start that morning had been delayed until nearly noon while they -searched vainly for some clew to the mystery that had in a few hours -held an orgy of wanton destructiveness in two camps and had poisoned -their water supply and killed three burros. Human malevolence had -been displayed in that last attack, Abington was convinced. - -Yet in spite of all his skill, all the careful attention to details -which his scientific training had made second nature, he had failed -to discover the slightest evidence of a human agency at work against -them. Not a sign, not a track, save those enormous sheep tracks -leaving the vicinity of the spring and going off up a narrow ravine -in great strides which made it hopeless to think of overtaking it; -for without water he did not dare attempt any prolonged search. Now, -with a half mile of red sand to plow through before they reached the -first bold hillside, their eyes clung perforce to the seamed, broken -rampart they were nearing. - -A dazzling light that flashed and was gone, then came again and -stood motionless for a space while one might count fifteen, showed -high up on a ridge as evenly serrated as a rooster’s comb, and quite -as red. Abington came to a full stop which he made a rest period by -slipping the heavy pack from his shoulders. Nothing loath, Bill did -likewise. The two sat down on the sand beside their bundles, mopping -perspiration from faces and necks. - -“Bill, when I get up and stand in front of you, look past me at the -sharp peak just south of the mountain--the first one on the ridge -straight before us. Tell me if you see anything that might be a -reflection of the sun--from a telescope, we’ll say, or more likely a -pair of field glasses. No, don’t look yet. Remember that with good -glasses a man could read the expression on your face, read your -lips, too, if he’s had any training.” - -At the first sentence Bill’s face had hardened. “You don’t have to -preach caution to a man that’s been on the dodge long as I have,” he -muttered bitterly, under cover of lighting a cigarette. “Shoot. What -d’you think--that it’s an officer, maybe?” - -“I’m not thinking past the field glasses that I believe are focused -on us,” Abington parried, rising and standing so that his back was -to the ridge while he held up his watch before Bill’s face. “He may -think I’m trying to hypnotize you, but it’s an excuse. Look right -past this watch, to a point between the second and third little -pinnacles on the ridge. See anything?” - -“Something moved, in the notch just below that pinnacle. I got it -against the sky for a minute. There ain’t any shine, though. Might -have been a sheep.” - -Abington put away his watch, stooped and shouldered his pack. - -Bill slipped his arms through the rope loops and wriggled his own -burden into place on his back as he got up. “Wouldn’t think they’d -be lookin’ for me away down here,” he said uneasily, after a few -rods of silent plodding. “Not unless you--” He sent an involuntary -glance toward his companion. - -“Unless I informed on you when I went after supplies, and arranged -for your capture after I had benefited by your information,” -Abington answered the look. “You don’t really think that, Bill.” - -“I don’t know why I wouldn’t think it, if somebody’s planted up -there watching for us with glasses,” Bill retorted, not more than -half in earnest but yielding to the ugly mood born of nerve strain -and muscle weariness. - -“Of course, you can think any idiotic thing you choose,” Abington -returned, in that tolerant tone which he could summon when he wished -to bite into a man’s self-esteem. “Any other brilliant ideas on the -subject, explaining why, if I were contemplating treachery, I should -call your attention to that light on the ridge up there?” - -“Yeah, I might have one or two,” Bill growled. “I was a fool to -start across here in broad daylight. Now, if they come after me, I -ain’t even got a gun!” - - * * * * * - -Abington sent a quick, sidelong glance toward Bill’s face. That gun -question was becoming a touchy subject between them. “No, you -haven’t a gun. So you are not quite so liable to a few extra -years--or a chair in the gas house--if you are caught!” - -“Well, I ain’t caught yet!” Bill’s upper lip lifted away from his -teeth. “Not by a damn sight!” - -Abington gave him another sidelong glance. The snarl was not lost -upon him, though he made no reply. Like many another man who is -agreeable enough in ordinary circumstances, Bill Jonathan’s good -nature did not always stand up under hardship. - -That blustery impatience at the physical discomforts of a long -grilling walk was beginning to crop out in Bill, mostly in the form -of a surly ill temper and a grumbling against conditions which -neither could help. Abington had reached the point of gauging the -exact degree of surliness and to set up mental defenses against his -moods. - -Bill had taken the initiative in this quest and he was surely -receiving full value for his efforts. From a sporting admiration for -Bill’s daring, and a certain liking for his whimsical shrewdness, -Abington was consciously beginning to chafe at the man’s crabbed -temper; he felt a growing distrust, too, which was yet formless and -only vaguely realized. - -He caught himself wishing now that he had asked Park what crime -stood against Bill Jonathan. No use asking Bill; he would say what -he pleased and the other could believe it or not. - -“If you’ve got any wild idea of finding out from me where them stone -skeletons is, and then turning me over to the sheriff, you better -revise the notion, professor,” Bill said abruptly, having brooded -over it for five minutes. “I’m nobody’s fool.” - -“Then why talk like one?” Exhaustion was beginning to draw a white -line beside Abington’s nostrils and his bruised ankle ached cruelly. -He began to feel that he’d had enough of Bill’s grousing. “You’ve -nothing to kick about, so shut up. I’m doing packer’s work rather -than have men along who might go out and betray you.” - -“Yeah. You knew mighty well I wouldn’t stir a foot if you brought in -a bunch of mouthy roughnecks,” Bill growled back. “How do I know -what you framed in town?” - -Abington slipped his pack off his shoulders and swung toward Bill -with a menacing glitter in his eyes. “That’s going a bit strong, -even for you,” he said sharply. “If you’ve any reason for saying -that, out with it! If not, I’ll thank you to keep such thoughts -behind your teeth. You’re getting quite as much as you are giving, -Bill Jonathan--and by that I mean to include loyalty and fair play. - -“For all I know,” Abington went on, “you invented the story of -fossilized human remains as a temptation that would insure my -protection and the food you’d need in case you made your escape from -Park. Do you suppose I was so blind I did not see that possibility -from the start? A fossilized man, as you knew, was bait I’d be -pretty sure to swallow. Well, I did swallow it--but not with my eyes -shut, I assure you. Please give me credit for that much -intelligence. - -“I took you at your word,” he continued, “and I have played the game -straight. I shall continue to play it square, until I find that you -have lied to me.” - - * * * * * - -He waited, balanced, ready for the blow he expected. Instead, he saw -the expression in Bill’s eyes change to a grudging mollification, as -if the very abusiveness of the attack reassured him. - -“I never said anything to put you on your ear,” Bill hedged -morosely, after an uncomfortable pause. “What are you razzing me -for? I said I wouldn’t be caught and I won’t be. That goes, -professor.” - -“Very well, let’s have no more talk about it.” Abington lifted his -pack to his galled shoulders and started on, leaving Bill to his own -devices; wherefore Bill presently overtook him and walked alongside. - -The truce held while the clouds flamed with the sunset, a barbaric -pageant that could not rival the sanguine magnificence of that wild -ensemble of towering hills slashed with deep gorges whose openings -were frequently hidden away behind bold, jutting pinnacles. - -“Looks like the devil was practicing on these hills, trying to make -a world of his own with nothing but fire for building material,” -Bill observed at last, wanting to appear friendly and awed in spite -of himself before the spectacle. “When God came along and told him -to knock off, looks like the devil just kicked it all to thunder and -dragged his feet through the mess a few times and walked off and -left it like that. Don’t you think so, professor?” - -“I’ve heard theories advanced that were not half so plausible,” -Abington replied, his voice once more calm and slightly ironic, as -if he still doubted Bill’s sincerity. “A man could spend a lifetime -in this country without exhausting its archaeological -possibilities.” - -“Yeah--or without getting caught,” Bill added, speaking as had the -other of the thing nearest his own heart. - - - - -CHAPTER VII--INTO THE BLACKNESS - - -Bill and Abington came to and entered a narrow, straight-walled -gorge. It had a loose, sandy bottom and every indication that ages -before it had been a watercourse with the floods of glacial rainfall -sluicing down to the valley. Presently Bill, plowing laboriously -ahead to a certain spring he remembered in a cave up this ravine, -gave a grunt and stopped short. - -In the peculiar, amethystine veil of the afterglow which lay upon -the hills like a cunning stage effect of, colored lights, he pointed -a finger stiffly to a certain mark in the sand. Abington limped -forward and joined him. - -“I see the gosh-awful is here ahead of us,” he said listlessly. -“Well, it will be obliged to wreck us personally this time, Bill, -since all our worldly goods are literally on our backs. We may get a -sight of it at last.” - -“That all you care?” Bill stared at him. “Maybe I’d feel that way -about it, too, if I had a gun to defend myself with. You’re making a -big mistake, professor. You’ll see it before you’re through.” - -“Possibly.” Abington’s tone was skeptical. “How far is it to the -spring?” - -Bill did not reply. He was still staring at the strange tracks that -were too large for any sheep one could imagine, yet not shaped like -cattle tracks, nor much resembling the elk they had discussed last -night. Blurred though they were in the fine sand, they were yet -easily distinguishable to being the same hoof prints they had seen -across the valley. - -The tracks did not look very fresh, and after a brief study of them -Abington took the lead, perhaps because he was armed and Bill was -not. - -Presently Abington stopped and pointed to a cleft in the rocks. -“Whatever it is, it turned out of the gorge and went up there,” he -said. “Pretty good climbing, even for a sheep.” - -“I’ll go ahead and show you the spring,” Bill volunteered and -Abington chuckled to himself. - -Bill looked back at him with sullen eyes. “All right for you, -professor--with two guns handy,” he said resentfully. “Put you in -here with just your bare hands and maybe you wouldn’t be so damn -nervy, yourself.” - -“I’d probably wait until I saw some danger before I became alarmed.” - -Bill muttered something under his breath, and stepped out more -briskly. Both were thirsty, but since they had left the western side -of the valley with one canteen nearly full, the need of water had -not yet become acute. It was the tramp across the valley with packs -too heavy for them that had told on the tempers of the two men--with -Abington’s bruised foot and Bill’s nervous dread of pursuit for good -measure. - -The spring proved to be well protected, in a water-worn cave that -seemed to offer excellent shelter. A tangle of nondescript oak -bushes grew near the entrance and drew moisture from the overflow -which, though slight, was yet sufficient for the scant vegetation. - -The cave itself was not large, with a fine sandy floor and a lofty -arched roof of irregular blocks of the red sandstone which was the -regular formation of these hills. A lime dyke broke through here and -there in sharp peaks and ridges in a fairly continuous outcropping -roughly pointing toward the river. - -Abington slipped off his pack, drank from the spring and sat down -against the wall of the cave to unlace his boot from his lame foot. - -Bill began gathering dry twigs and branches and set about making -coffee and frying a little bacon. “We oughta git a sheep or -something,” he grumbled, breaking a long moody silence. “This time -of year there’s generally sheep running in through here.” - -“I’ll take a hunt, when my foot has had a rest. We can manage for a -day or two,” Abington replied without looking up. - -“Say, you’d be in a hell of a fix if you broke your leg,” Bill -sneered. “You’d starve to death before you’d trust me with a gun, -wouldn’t you?” - -“There’s meat for to-night. To-morrow will take care of itself.” - -“Yeah, maybe it will--and it’ll leave us to do the same,” Bill -retorted. “What the heck are you scared of, professor?” - -“Nothing at all. Not even your gosh-awful. Will you fill that corn -can with water for me, Bill? I’ll try a cold compress on the foot.” - -Bill did as he was requested and a sight of the discolored foot -stirred him to sympathy. Abington, he suddenly saw, must have -suffered cruelly all day, though he hadn’t said anything about it. -Bill remembered too that Abington had remained awake all last night -while he himself had slept. But it was not Bill’s way to apologize. - -“That’s a hell of a looking foot!” he growled. “Hot water beats -cold. After supper I’ll heat a can of water--” - -“After supper I’m going to sleep,” Abington rebuffed him. “Cold -water will do.” - -“Have it your way--it’s your foot,” snapped Bill, and relapsed into -his morose silence. - - * * * * * - -It was not an agreeable supper, and neither spoke while they drank -coffee and ate bacon and fried corn from the same frying pan. - -Bill was tired and full of uneasy fears and he bitterly resented -Abington’s action in regard to the guns. He was accustomed to the -feel of a gun’s weight against his hip and the thought of facing -trouble without a weapon gave him an uncomfortable feeling of -helplessness. Add mystery to the hazard, and Bill reacted with a -dread not far removed from panic. - -Abington ate and drank his share, then forced himself to explore the -cave with a lamp. He chose for himself a niche in one side of the -wall near the entrance, where he would hear any intruder and would -still be fairly well concealed. - -At least, that was his idea when he settled himself in the recess. -As a matter of fact not even his aching foot could keep him awake. -He dropped almost at once into the deep dreamless sleep of -exhaustion. When he opened his eyes it was to see the sunlight -slanting into the cave--a circumstance which at first convinced him -that it must be nearly noon, since the cave opening faced the south -and the cañon walls were high. - -After a brief space of mental fogginess, however, his mind snapped -into alertness. He remembered that he had stooped to enter the -cavern; the sunlight bathed the high-arched roof just over his head -and brought into relief certain symbols--left there by the ancients, -he had no doubt. - -For a time he lay looking up at the roof, deciphering each crude -character, his eyes tracing the lines which even in that sheltered -place showed the erosion of many centuries. Some of the lines were -dimmed; none retained the sharp outlines left by the engravers. - -Now he knew that the cave had a high opening through which the sun -was shining; a common occurrence in that old formation that had -suffered the buffetings of wind and water for millions of years, and -moreover had been rocked and twisted by many a primeval earthquake. -He thought no more of the opening, but insensibly slipped under the -spell of those ancient records, his imagination thrilling to each -new sign as it caught his eye. - -The story of a journey was depicted there, a journey of death, he -judged from certain priestly emblems and the sign of burial. Perhaps -they had attempted to depict the journey of the soul, though he -could only guess at that, his speculations revolving around a figure -of a dog or wolf, very similar to the jackal which in the belief of -ancient Egypt was supposed to carry souls across the desert to -paradise. He wondered, searching farther along the roof for further -inscriptions. - -Like an old rangeman riding up to a herd of strange cattle, -unconsciously reading the brands and mentally identifying the -owners, Abington could not seem to pull his mind away from that -roof. Beyond the sunlit patch the carvings extended into obscurity -so deep that, stare as he would, he could not distinguish the lines. - -A sense of bafflement nagged at him. Just as the cattleman will -follow a range animal for half a mile, seeking the vague -satisfaction of seeing what brand had been burned into its hide, -Abington sat up and put on his boots, and picked up the can of -carbide and miner’s lamp which he used in preference to candles when -exploring dark caverns. He started climbing up a tilted shelf of -rock that offered a precarious footing for a man tall enough to -bridge certain places where the shelf had dropped completely away -and left gaps in what may once have been a steep narrow trail. - -From the floor of the cave it looked impossible for anything save a -fly or a lizard to climb to the roof. When he started, Abington had -not expected to do more than reach a point from where he could view -the shadowed writing at closer range. He kept going, however, while -the lame foot protested with twinges of pain that gradually ceased -as the muscles limbered. Presently he stood on a low irregular -balcony, the writings just over his head. - -This was something he had not suspected even while lying on his back -studying the roof. He made his way along the ledge, forced to stoop -so that he was soon walking like a gorilla with his hands sometimes -touching the balcony floor. He became suddenly aware of an odd -variation in the rough sandstone. The sharp, granular formation was -worn down to a dull smoothness in the center of the ledge where he -walked. It was a pathway polished by many shuffling feet--nothing -else. - -He turned a corner and peered into blackness; an ancient water -channel was there, no doubt. Abington lighted a match, saw that the -hieroglyphics continued along the wall. Waiting only long enough to -light the carbide lamp, he set off along the narrow passage, pausing -now and then to study the inscriptions as he went. - -Broad chambers receded into blackness beyond the white light of his -lamp and these he hastily explored before going on. Labyrinthine -passageways were revealed as he turned the light this way and that, -each opening inscribed with strange symbols carved in the rock at -the sides. - -“A gold mine of records!” Abington exclaimed to himself in the -whisper that was his habit when alone. “The ancient people who lived -here seem to have had a Scribblers’ Club of very active members! An -ancient catacomb, or I’m mistaken. That, or else these symbols were -carved with the express purpose of misleading one. H’m! An attempt -to confuse the devil and thwart him in his search for the souls of -the dead! Now here’s a pretty problem for an archaeologist. Let’s -see if I am smarter than the devil!” - - - - -CHAPTER VIII--THE GREAT CHAIN OF EVIL - - -Ordinarily John Abington thought fairly well of himself and he felt -certain that these misleading characters could not prevent him from -finding the way to the actual burial place. For one thing, he -discovered that many of the passages--a miner would have called them -drifts--had been hacked out by hand, with stone hammers and wedges. -How long and arduous a task that had been, he could only conjecture. - -In several of the drifts he found implements to prove his theory. -After a glance or two that identified them with the early people he -had been tracing, he went on and left the implements lying there for -the present, knowing that he could return at any time and get them -if he wished to do so. - -It cost him several fruitless trips down long, winding ways that -finally ended in blank walls, before he learned to mistrust the -man-made passageways, which had evidently been cunningly constructed -to deceive the devil himself--and any other unwelcome intruder. - -He began to study more carefully the carvings placed at the openings -of these zigzag passages, but after a while he was forced to admit -to himself that he could make nothing of them. So far as he could -determine with a cursory examination they all looked much alike, -though he knew there must be some secret differentiation. He could -only avoid such corridors as seemed to him the work of human hands, -and go on. - -Going on was not a simple thing, however. Many times he was forced -to crawl on hands and knees along an old water channel with fine red -sand packed hard and smooth, and at such times he caught himself -looking for human footprints. That he found nothing of the kind in -any of the old water channels seemed to him a proof that the ancient -ones had traversed these black passages before the time of copious -rainfall, else the sand would not have been so smooth and untrodden. - -Frequently he was forced to climb up through crevices where the -rocks were worn glossy--always, wherever rock lay underfoot, the -same smoothness prevailed --until it seemed to him that he must soon -emerge upon the crest of the high-turreted ridge which formed that -wall of the cañon. - -After a time that to Abington had been timeless, so absorbed was he -in the fascinating quest of a final destination which these signs -seemed to promise, he was recalled to practical things by the -dimming of his carbide lamp. He held it close to his ear and shook -it, but heard no sloshing sound in the small water compartment above -the carbide. - - * * * * * - -He moved the tiny lever that permitted the water to leak drop by -drop over the lumps of carbide to form the acetylene gas which -burned with a clear white light until water or carbide--or -both--were exhausted and the gas ceased to form, but the flame still -burned feebly and threatened to go out altogether. - -Abington glanced at his watch and gave a low whistle. No wonder the -lamp was going out! His watch said that the hour was eleven -thirty-five, though he would have sworn it was crazy if the lamp had -not begun to fail. - -He must have been prowling in there for three or four hours. That -was as long as the lamp would burn with one filling of water. The -previous evening he had wanted to make sure of a steady light in -case they were disturbed during the night and he had put in fresh -carbide and filled the small tank with water just before going to -bed. - -“Damned idiot! Brought the carbide can along, and no extra water!” -he anathematized his carelessness. - -After all, he was not so culpable, however, for he had intended to -use the lamp for only a few minutes, to study the carvings on the -cave roof. The can of carbide, lying beside the lamp, had gone into -his pocket from force of habit, a good habit, too. If only he had -slipped the quart canteen over his shoulder! But Abington’s work had -taught him to manage comfortably with very little water and who -would burden himself with a canteen when he was merely going to -climb fifteen or twenty feet? - -He shut off the lamp entirely, since it was folly to waste the flame -while he sat there thinking over the unpleasant predicament in which -his scientific zeal had led him. That little cat claw of light might -serve to help him over a bad place, he reflected. As he sat there, -he could recall several places which he would not care to negotiate -in the dark. Furthermore, there had been trickles of water in some -of the passages and one cavern held a pool. - -It occurred to him that Bill would probably be worried. It was the -first time he had thought of Bill since he started this strange -underground journey. He remembered now that he had not seen Bill in -the cave when he left it that morning. “He’ll think the gosh-awful -got me in the night!” Abington grinned to himself. - -Abington hated to go back without having discovered the secret of -these writings, but common sense told him that the thorough -exploration of this place was likely to take some little time. The -problem now was to find his way back to the cave. He had little -doubt that he could retrace his steps, though he realized that it -would take some time, feeling his way along in the dark, as he would -be compelled to do unless he found water. - -He stood up, stooping under the low roof, and stared unseeingly into -the blackness whence he had come, trying to recall the nearest point -where he could find water. It was some little distance back, he -knew. He had been climbing considerably in the last half hour or -more and the walls were dry. - -Well, he would have to help out with matches until he found water -enough to fill his lamp. An inveterate smoker, he had a fair supply -of matches; and now he lighted one and tucked it under the little -lamp switch, so that he could have the benefit of the blaze down the -full length of the wood. - -That first match having helped him down a rough channel where the -boulders were trickily piled, he felt his way along the wall as far -as he dared go before lighting another. Walking in alternate -darkness and light, he made his way for some distance. - -Inevitably the time arrived when he paused, hesitating between a -left-hand turn and a right, with a black hole directly in front of -him. It cost Abington two matches to decide that he knew none of -these passages, that he had not come this way at all. - -He was about to retrace his steps to a point where he was sure of -the landmarks when, far away, he heard the faint drip, drip, drip of -water falling on rock. At first, standing there in black silence -save for the intermittent tinkling, he could not tell where the -sound came from. - -By walking a few feet down each passage, however, he eliminated -first the left passage and then the right, and so went straight -ahead down a gentle incline with roof so high that a match flame -failed to reveal it, and so narrow that his shoulders brushed the -walls on either side as he walked. He judged it to be a natural -fissure running through the hill, an old watercourse; the ridge -seemed honeycombed with them. - -That particular match having burned itself out, Abington walked on -in darkness, frankly relieved at the near prospect of water. He was -willing now to admit to himself that he was very thirsty, and that -the hunger gnawing at his stomach could be easier borne if he had a -drink. - -It would be a relief, too, to have a decent light once more and he -promised himself grimly that this time he would not loiter along, -studying hieroglyphics as he went. They could wait until he came in -again prepared to explore the place thoroughly and chalk the -different turnings so there could be no blundering in the future. -So, thinking of future precautions, he stepped out over the lip of a -small precipice and fell headlong into water. - -He came up spluttering sentences which might have surprised Bill, -who had found him always controlled in his speech. Abington fumbled -for the edge of the pool, found it and hung on with one hand while -he explored with the other for room to lift himself out on the rock. -Grimly he clung to the lamp, which was doubly vital to him now, and -when he had made shift to crawl out he turned and sat with his legs -dangling in water to his knees while he prepared to fill his lamp. - -“Well, I wanted water,” he said with a chuckle, when his first -startled rage had passed and he was smoothing the water out of his -wet beard. “Sooner or later we do get what we want, I’ve noticed, -even though the manner of getting is often unexpected.” With the -lamp cap opened, he leaned and dipped the lamp in the water, feeling -for the depth. - - * * * * * - -Abington’s nerves were scarcely more susceptible to emotion than -wires, but the Stygian blackness and the silence broken only by that -tinkling drip, drip, drip, began to press rather heavily upon his -consciousness. In spite of himself his fingers shook and fumbled the -simple mechanism which provided for lighting the lamp with a spark -when matches were not available--as his emphatically were not, after -their involuntary bath. - -He whirred the little wheel again and again before he succeeded in -striking a spark that would ignite the gas, and exhaled a long -breath of gratitude when the slender white flame suddenly sprang -into life. Solicitously he coaxed it into a brighter radiance and -turned its full beam upward, looking for the spot where he had -walked over the edge of the fissure. When he found it, his mouth -sagged open. - -“Call this hole a teapot, and I’d say I fell down the spout,” he -grunted. “A pretty problem--getting out again!” - -In truth the problem was not pretty, but instead was as ugly a -situation as any in which John Abington had ever found himself. The -place was not unlike a huge teapot with bulging sides and the -fissure for a spout. How deep the water was in the pool, he could -only guess; considerably over six feet, he knew, because he had -taken a dive of about fifteen feet and he did not remember that he -touched bottom at all. As to the diameter of the pool, that too was -a matter of conjecture, since the light did not show the farther -rim. - -He leaned over, dropped a wet match into the water and watched it, -edging along the rim of the pool as the match floated gently away -from the side where he had fallen in. - -Abington’s eyes brightened. “Thought there was a current,” he said -with a nod of confirmation. “Some outlet, of course. Some inlet, as -well. This pool never filled drop by drop.” - -Carefully guarding his lamp, he worked his way along, following the -match. He saw it hesitate, poise and sway like something grown -suddenly fearful, then up-end and disappear under water as if -invisible fingers had reached up and seized it. Abington leaned far -over, flung another match into the water and saw it disappear as the -first had done. - -He dropped his hand into the water, let the fingers dangle -passively, and felt the nagging pull of the undertow. The hope of -leaving the cavern by following the outlet of the pool died before -it had gained more than a flutter of life. For the water flowed out -by a subterranean channel which no man could follow. - -Abington continued around the pool, turning the lamp this way and -that upon water and walls. The place was not unlike a huge cistern, -roughly round and slowly drying up, judging from certain marks on -the rock rim which in places sloped steeply toward the water. -Presently he discovered the inlet, a small stream running down -through a crack in the wall. There was no hope Whatever of getting -out that way. It was here that the tinkly drip fell into the pool -from a finger of rock thrust out of the fissure. - -Even in his urgent need of finding his way back to the surface, his -scientific mind ruled Abington, for he caught himself turning the -lamp rays back for a second look at hieroglyphics carved high up. - -“What the deuce!” he muttered. “That can mean nothing but evil--much -evil--and the death of many. Aztec and Egyptian--not burial but -death, and an evil death at that. Death to many--repeated over -there. Well, the carvers were here, that’s certain. Couldn’t have -come in as I came. H’m--” - -He went on, stepping across the fissure where the water flowed in, -and keeping to the dank rim which widened as he proceeded. Although -the walls rose roughly perpendicular with here an outward bulge, -there a falling back to a steep incline, there was visible no -passage nor even a split, save where the water came sliding down the -fissure that was no more than a seam. All along the wall, high up -wherever a smooth surface offered, there were the carvings, with -little variation in their sinister portent, the great chain of evil, -and the death of many. - - - - -CHAPTER IX--A JUMP INTO SPACE - - -Twice Abington circled the pool, pausing often to scan the carvings -and to look up at the place where he had made his unexpected -entrance. A real jump-off, that; more than twice the height of a -tall man, and no possibility of climbing back unless one had a rope. -The water had undoubtedly saved him a nasty fall. - -As a means of escape, Abington gave it up and turned his attention -to the places where the walls slanted up into blackness. He was -standing thoughtfully considering his next move--a matter that would -bear thought!--when he was startled by an explosive report, muffled -by distance, but nevertheless unmistakably a gunshot. - -Something approaching a spasm of rage at his helplessness shook -Abington and passed, leaving him again calculating and outwardly -calm. The sound could not have come down the fissure from which he -had fallen. He had come too far along a straight passage before he -reached the three forks, for an outside noise to penetrate to him -there. - -The sound might have come down the narrow inlet to the pool, but -Abington dismissed that possibility, probably because it was of no -use to him, since he could not very well worm his way through an -eight-inch crevice. - -There must be some opening in the roof. If not, then one good -archaeologist was likely to be counted a martyr to science and -finally forgotten--his own bones eventually becoming mere fossilized -relics. - -“Cheerful prospect, by Jove!” he grunted as he turned his back on -the inlet and began to examine the walls with the speculative eye of -a steeple jack. Now that he was fairly sure that the surface was -near, Abington did find a place where it looked possible for an -athlete to climb up, at least as far as the light illumined the -walls. - -He was resolved that there must be no more carelessness. Before he -left the pool he took the precaution of emptying the carbide lumps -from the can into his handkerchief, and filling the can with water. -The tight-fitting top served to keep the water from leaking into his -pocket, though he stowed the carbide in another for safety’s sake. -He kept out but one lump, which he put into the lamp, leaving -himself in the dark for a minute or two. - -With the lamp dry and warm the tiny flint wheel sparked at the first -attempt and the white tongue of flame shot out in a friendly fashion -that brought the ghost of a smile to Abington’s lips. Even then he -waited long enough to refill the lamp with water before rising to -begin the hazardous climb--which, after all, might net him nothing, -unless it were a broken bone or two if he lost his footing and fell -again. - -Abington’s work had given him the sureness of a mountain goat. He -took off his necktie, tied it like a bandeau around his head, hooked -the lamp securely in its fabric and began to climb, resolutely -pushing far from him the thought of failure. - -How far he went, he did not know. All he was certain of was the -impossibility of going back. There were times when he hung by a -slender foothold and risked his neck while he rested his hands. -There were other times when he was almost ready to give it up, -almost but never wholly beaten. - -“By Jove, this is a high mountain!” he gasped once when, having -found a fairly comfortable perch on a knob of rock the size of a -barrel, he very gingerly removed the lamp from his forehead and took -a more comprehensive survey of his immediate surroundings and the -wall above him. “I’ll swear I’ve climbed ten miles!” This was a very -unscientific assertion to make. He capped it at once by another. -“Bet I’ve passed a dozen lateral fissures on the way up.” - - * * * * * - -Having relieved the tension somewhat by that remark, he slowly -turned himself about and illumined with white light an arched -opening in the wall that half faced him around the curve of the -cavern. “I’ll be damned!” breathed John Abington but what he really -meant was: “Thank God!” - -The six feet of sheer wall which stood between his perch and the -mouth of the passageway balked him for a time, until he saw that the -rock immediately above the opening broke smoothly for several feet, -even with the face of the wall. The rock floor of the tunnel -extended outward over the black abyss from which he had just -climbed; it was like a pursed lip thrust out from an open mouth, he -thought. - -Upon that narrow platform he fixed his gaze, shrewdly measuring the -width of the extension. He would have to climb above the opening and -drop down to the out-thrust lip, trusting to good fortune to keep -his balance and not pitch headlong into the cavern. - -For a long moment he stood face to face with this fresh ordeal, the -lamplight sliding back and forth, halting to contemplate a feasible -niche for his feet, stealing upward to find some splinter or seam -where the fingers could clutch. - -Foot by foot he planned it, while he gathered his last reserve of -strength for this supreme effort. Once he started, there could be no -going back. He must work above the smooth stretch, where, at some -time in the past, a huge fragment of wall had fallen away, and then -edge sidewise until he was directly over the lip of the tunnel. - -After that he must let go all holds and drop. If he landed on the -lip and stayed there, he would at least have a chance. If not--the -evil death of a certainty would be his; for even if he landed -uninjured in the pool he would never be able to repeat that terrific -climb. He knew that he would not even attempt it. - -Doggedly, with that persistence which characterized the man, -Abington began the ascent. He reached the exact point which he had -planned to reach, drew one long breath in the full knowledge that it -might be his last--and dropped. The impact of solid rock upon his -boot soles jarred him as he flung himself forward and fell face -downward on the floor of the passage. - - - - -CHAPTER X--TRACKS IN THE DUST - - -When Abington came to himself he was in darkness, the lamp having -fallen on its side and gone out. Whether he had fainted, slept or -merely lost consciousness for a moment he could not tell, nor did he -ponder it much. The fact that his toes hung over the edge set him -crawling forward on his hands and knees, obeying the primal instinct -of self-preservation. - -He wanted no more of that particular abysm. Until he had put several -yards between himself and what seemed to him now a black, bottomless -void, he did not think of the lamp. - -When he finally forced himself to stop and light it he discovered -that he was in a fairly level passage, the walls covered with -carvings wherein the same chain of evil predominated. These -hieroglyphics won only a cursory glance, however, as he got -painfully upon his feet and started forward, steadying himself -against the wall as he went. - -A cool breath of air in his face was his first intimation that he -was nearing the outdoor world. In spite of a stiffness in his joints -and muscles he found himself moving almost at a run and the -consciousness of his nervous haste brought a faint grin of amusement -to his face. John Abington was more anxious to see daylight than he -ever had been in his life--and the first man to laugh over the -experience would be John Abington himself. - -Nevertheless he did not slacken his pace until he arrived at a sharp -turning where a gray light dimmed the white flame of his lamp. - -He stopped before a crack twice the width of his palm, through which -the dawn wind came blowing gratefully in his face. Directly across -from him, but fifty feet lower and separated by a hundred-foot -chasm, a broad ridge extended out into the valley; and as he looked -two bighorn sheep came trotting up a faint trail and disappeared -among the higher crags. - -“That’s where the shooting took place,” Abington told himself. -“Wonder if Bill’s been hunting? Took my rifle. Have to give it back. -Well--at least I can see daylight!” - -The lazy clouds above the valley blossomed suddenly into radiant -hues. The gaunt hills blushed and the cañons all seemed bathed in -crimson and yellow flames. As through the narrow window of a belfry -tower, Abington gazed down on a world of magnificent peaks and crags -flaunting their bold reds and yellow beneath a redder sunrise. - -For the moment the scene held him, then he turned back to the -problem of finding a way out; for although a glimpse of the outside -world was heartening, he could not squeeze through an eight-inch -split in the rock. There must be some other exit. He turned away -from the window and went on. - -The passage took another twist and he entered a roughly outlined -room into which the daylight seeped through several fissures between -the shattered blocks of sandstone; high overhead most of them were, -although two or three were low enough to serve as narrow windows. - -A square boulder, the top hollowed in the shape of a rounded trough, -stood in the center of the chamber. Otherwise the room was empty, -unless the intricate mass of carved symbols might be classed as -furnishings, for the walls were covered with them. - -Abington’s spirits rose, though he paid little attention to the -writings. To him they proved, as did the boulder which he recognized -as a sacrificial altar, that this was a chamber much used by the -ancients. Since the route by which he had entered could not be -called a thoroughfare, there would be another way out, possibly -several. - -Within two minutes he had found the passage, and something else. -There on the rock floor which slanted down from the chamber on the -side opposite the one by which he had entered, was a cigarette stub; -it was one of the oval kind he himself always smoked. He stooped and -picked it up, his black eyebrows lifted in surprise. - -“Never reached this point yesterday--h’m! Bill not only borrowed my -gun and went hunting last night, but did a little exploring on his -own account. Looking for me, perhaps. No, Bill was scouting around -for himself. H’m! Growing surly and quarrelsome, pretending a -distrust he can’t actually feel, hoping I’d give him an excuse to -turn on me. Wonder, now, if Bill didn’t raid his own cave and hide -the stuff! - -“A full burro load of grub--with gun and ammunition he could live -all winter--h’m!” He went on: “Looking now for a hideout--place -where I can’t find him! Bill, my lad, you should pay more attention -to details; one little oversight--such as a cigarette stub--has -hanged a man before now. A good inch and a half of tobacco wasted -here. You’ll be wanting a cigarette very badly, Bill, before you get -another supply, remember.” - -He laid the stub down where he had found it and went on, haggard -eyes peering this way and that, seeking further signs of the -traitor’s presence. If Bill had been looking for his partner, then -it was an odd twist of circumstance that had sent them both -wandering around in the same labyrinth of caves and complicated -katabothra without once permitting them to meet. If, on the other -hand, Bill had been hunting a hiding place which Abington would -never find--and the archaeologist was certain this was the case--he -had a surprise in store. - -Just now Abington wanted most of all to get out of there and find -his way back to their camp, where there should be food. If -not--well, he had his automatic; he had seen game; and he was a -fairly accurate shot. He would not starve. - -The passage sharply descended, as so many others had done. Abington -went cautiously, lighting both walls and watching for obscure -openings which for all he knew might be the one he should take. This -whole country seemed to have been the playground of Vulcan, who rent -mountains asunder, twisted whole ranges of hills and broke them into -fragments and flung them aside when fresh land appeared above the -great Sonora Sea and caught his sportive fancy. - -Just here the shattered formation of the old volcanic fissure lay in -blocks that had been roughly hewn into the crude semblance of steps, -down which Abington went slowly, choosing his footing with the -deliberation of excessive weariness. His thirty-six-hour fast and -that terrific climb up from the Pool of Evil Death--from the -writings he had so named the place--had taken more out of him than -he realized, until he began to negotiate this rather difficult -descent. But he kept going, that cigarette stub serving now to urge -him forward. - - * * * * * - -Stumbling from hunger and weariness, Abington emerged into another -cavern of considerable extent and showing unmistakable signs of -human occupancy in bygone ages. Crude pots--most of them -broken--stood against the walls. Stone implements of various kinds, -all thickly covered with dust, lay scattered about; and on the -dust-strewn floor were the plain imprints of hiking boots. Bill, -then, had visited this cavern, which proved that so far Abington had -kept to the right trail. - -Tilting the lamp so that the light shone on the floor, he went -forward, following the boot tracks in the dust. Through winding -passages they led him--Abington might have become lost again had not -those footprints pointed the way--and so into a chamber where was -piled a little heap of things which Abington recognized as a part of -his own outfit and the things Bill had declared were stolen from his -cave across the valley. - -The treachery of the act stabbed through Abington’s weary -consciousness and merged into a malicious satisfaction. At any rate -the spot had been well chosen, for here was water trickling down a -rift in the wall, tinkling into a tiny basin hewn out of the rock by -some other hands than Bill’s. - -Abington sank to his knees and drank thirstily, then clawed at the -pile of stuff, found a tin of corned beef and cut it open with his -knife. It was not what he would have chosen for a meal, but it would -serve. There was plenty of water at hand. He ate all of the corned -beef, drank again and withdrew to a sandy niche where he felt fairly -sure of hearing Bill if he returned; laid himself down under a -shelving projection of rock, put out his lamp and went thankfully to -sleep. - - - - -CHAPTER XI--ROARING GUNS - - -Refreshed, Abington awoke with a sunbeam shining fair in his eyes. -Just at first he failed to orient himself and thought he was in the -cave with Bill. But this cavern was larger and the crevices high up -on the wall, between the broken masses of rock, let in a westering -sun and a breeze straight off the desert. He was hungry again and -the salt beef had given him a burning thirst. - -He wondered if Bill had returned while he slept. It was quite -likely, he thought, and having no wish to be discovered just yet, he -crept very slowly from his place of concealment, careful to keep in -the shadows beneath the jutting wall. - -For some time he waited and listened, but the only sounds he heard -were the tinkling of the little spring and the shrill chirping of a -few cedar birds that had made their home in the crannies of the roof -and were very busy with their own small affairs. - -Abington grinned to himself as he cautiously approached the little -pile of supplies and began a more careful investigation than he had -attempted that morning. Two pounds of chewing tobacco--most -convincingly had Bill bewailed the loss of those plugs, he -remembered. He counted half a dozen cans of corned beef, one of the -variations in diet which had been made possible by having three pack -burros. Had Bill really imagined he could make Abington believe that -the gosh-awful had carried off chewing tobacco and corned beef in -cans? - -In the face of their loss of the burros Abington had not given much -thought to the missing articles from Bill’s outfit. He had visited -the cave, viewed the apparent aimlessness of the demolition, had -looked for tracks, and, having found the giant sheep tracks in the -bottom of the cañon, paid no more attention to the wreckage. - -“Bill must have hurried back across the valley after this stuff--no, -certain details contradict that,” Abington said to himself. “He must -have carried all this stuff on his back, along with what I gave him. -Not very bulky--he could have concealed it all in his pack, easily -enough. Pretty heavy load it would make! No wonder Bill was grouchy! -Took advantage of the gosh-awful’s work and held out a few supplies -on me. Clever--but then, the sheriff’s experience with Bill should -have warned me to be on the lookout for tricks.” - -Abington helped himself to what food he could stow in his pockets, -dined on another can of corned beef, took a long drink at the spring -and refilled his carbide lamp before he started out again. His plans -had changed altogether since he discovered the food cache. - -He no longer wanted to get back to the cave where he and Bill had -camped, for he did not believe that Bill would be there, nor any of -the supplies, and if there were fossilized human skeletons in this -region he felt that he would find them just as easily without Bill. - -The way out of this particular cavern led him down through another -crevice, blocky and splintered as if the whole peak had been twisted -asunder; and for the greater part of the distance it was open to the -sky. - -There were places where it would even have been possible for a man -to climb up out of the crevice. But the day was too far gone and -Abington had no intention of spending another night underground in -aimless wanderings, nor to roost on some dangerous pinnacle until -morning. - -He emerged at last on a narrow ridge that stood like the crest of a -huge, petrified wave between the peak he was leaving and another not -quite so high. Intuitively he identified it as the ridge he had -dubbed the rooster’s comb--and knew that if he were right he must -have come a long way underground. For the cave where he and Bill had -spent the night together and from which he had started on his -subterranean journey was considerably more than half a mile from the -ridge where he had seen the light. - -Again the high peaks were gilded with sunlight while the lower -slopes glowed scarlet and the deeper shadows merged into warm -purple. No artist would ever have dared to mix those barbaric -colors, even for a desert sunset; and if he had dared his hand must -have lacked the cunning of the Master Painter who daily wrought his -magic here on these wild hills where men so seldom ventured. - -Abington looked down a sheer wall of rock to a deep basin where -grass grew and a round pool of water held like a mirror the -rose-tinted reflection of the cloud straight overhead. One steep -trail led down the farther hillside to the pool and as he gazed a -mountain sheep went bounding up that trail. On the brink of the pool -stood a man foreshortened to the height of a boy. He seemed to be -staring after the sheep. - -“Bill! Oh, Bill!” Abington shouted between cupped hands. For the -moment he had quite forgotten Bill’s treachery, in his human -reaction to the sight of a familiar figure after the ordeal he had -just passed through. “Oh, Bill! Hey!” - -The man’s face was upturned, staring. Then he raised his rifle and -fired point-blank at Abington. The bullet struck a rock close by, -ricochetted and nicked Abington across the forearm. - -“You poisonous reptile!” snarled Abington, and whipped out his -automatic. - -At his first shot the figure went sprawling; tried to get up, fell -back and lay still. Abington watched him, a bit heartsick over the -excellence of his shot. He had never taken much to the manly sport -of planting leaden pellets in living bodies, but since his work took -him into the wild places of the world he had learned to shoot -straight because it seemed to him a necessary accomplishment. -Besides, straight shooting made an enormous saving in ammunition. - -“You would have it,” he grunted remorsefully. “Any jury would agree -that my life is of more use to the world than yours--and since you -are the killing kind it--” - -Down in the basin the wounded man struggled to hands and knees and -began crawling; slowly, stopping every moment or two, going on, -crawling in an aimless circle most horrible to watch. - -An oath voiced at random jarred out of Abington’s throat. He half -raised the automatic, lowered it, shook his head. He couldn’t do it. -But neither could he leave man nor animal crawling blindly, -aimlessly around until he died. Abington looked again and turned -away sickened at that creeping, groping, stricken thing hemmed in by -the crimson rocks that rimmed the basin. - - * * * * * - -Without any clear purpose Abington started down the ridge, looking -for some break in the cliff that separated him from the basin by a -scant two hundred feet. He had no doubt that Bill Jonathan was done -for; the automatic was a wicked weapon; the range was short. - -When in the dusk he came slipping and sliding down an old sheep -trail long since abandoned for a more favored path, however, there -was no wounded man to be seen in the little basin. Like a shot quail -that flutters for a moment among the bushes and is lost, the man -somehow had managed to crawl away and disappear. - -Abington called Bill’s name again and again while he lighted the -carbide lamp. And as the white light sprang out and drove back the -shadows, a gunshot roared just under the cliff for answer to his -hail. - -As he leaped sidewise, Abington shut off the lamp, then rushed the -spot where the gun had flashed. By good luck he spied the vague bulk -just as the rifle was being painfully lifted for another shot. He -snatched at the barrel and wrenched the gun free--by the feeble -resistance of the other gauging shrewdly his waning strength. - -“Venomous kind of snake, aren’t you?” Abington observed with pitying -contempt, as he leaned the rifle against the cliff and started to -relight the lamp. - -The light flared up. Abington stooped, gave a shocked exclamation as -he started back, recovered himself and stooped again. The man was -not Bill Jonathan, but a gaunt old fellow with high cheek bones and -a straight gash of a mouth drawing an evil line through his grizzled -beard. He was a total stranger, wounded and collapsed against the -cliff; beaten and utterly passive now, like a trapped animal that -will not move unless it sees some chance of escape. - -“By Jove, I’m glad it wasn’t Bill, at any rate!” Abington ejaculated -as he knelt to make a superficial examination. “Shot through the -side,” he diagnosed to himself. “Well below the heart. Serious -enough, but by no means fatal with the proper care--and that is -going to be something of a problem in existing conditions. Might -better have made a clean job of it--glad I didn’t, though. - -“Well,” he asked aloud, “where’s your camp? If it doesn’t involve -too much climbing I’ll try and get you home.” He waited while the -old man’s eyes remained fixed on him with a baleful stare. “Doesn’t -understand, maybe.” - -He tried French, German and a passable Italian, keenly watching the -eyes that never once changed their homicidal glare. He sat back on -his haunches and studied the glowering face with less personal -emotion than he would have displayed before an odd pattern of the -Maya death mask, and decided that the man had understood his first -question well enough and was merely stubborn. - -“Of course, if you want to lie here all night, that’s your -privilege, I suppose,” Abington said finally, standing up and -glancing around at the confining walls of the dusk-filled basin. He -turned the light again on the old man’s forbidding countenance, made -more sinister by the pain he was suffering. - -“Are your field glasses equipped with night lenses?” Abington asked -abruptly, and silently laughed at the startled wavering of those -colorless eyes. - -“Thought so! Now, since you do understand plain English, let me urge -you to tell me where I’ll find your camp. Of course you have one, -for you’re too well nourished and too well dressed to be living off -the country. You won’t talk? Then you are likely to catch cold in -that wound, lying out here all night. And I can assure you that a -bullet wound--especially in the body--can give plenty of trouble if -neglected.” - -The thin, vindictive mouth, clamped shut in that thick unkempt -beard, might have been dumb for all the sound that issued from it. - - * * * * * - -Abington rose and went seeking here and there with a light hoping to -discover some sign of a camp, or at least a trail that would lead to -one. He did not succeed, but he did find the field glasses which had -been dropped or cannily hidden under a bush, where they might have -been overlooked if the light had not brought a reflection from the -lenses. He was looking them over when, from up on the ridge where -the sheep had disappeared, a voice that could belong to no man save -Bill shouted anxiously: - -“Hullo! That you down there, professor?” - -Abington swung the lamp toward the sound, moving it three times up -and-down, the signal to advance which they had found convenient in -old caves and tunnels where a shout might bring down upon their -heads a small avalanche of loose rock. - -“Was that you shooting? You hurt?” - -“Come on down, Bill,” Abington called. “There’s a path, if you can -find it in the dark.” And as an afterthought, he added: “No, I’m not -hurt.” - -Good old Bill, to ask that question with just that demanding note of -worry in his voice! Abington remembered what he had been thinking -when he pulled and aimed his automatic, and he had the conscience to -blush for the thought. Of course Bill was no traitor! His eager, -hurried voice betrayed long hours of frantic searching in that maze -of narrow gorges that twisted and turned and crisscrossed so -bewilderingly. - -Abington smiled under his beard as he listened to the clattering of -small rocks on the hillside beyond the pool. Presently Bill -Jonathan’s familiar figure--never had Abington seen a more welcome -sight!--came lurching into the light zone, half running, with that -little swing of the shoulders that told of strength. - -“My Lord, professor, I’ve been runnin’ these hills like a rabid kit -fox, lookin’ for you!” he panted, laying both hands on Abington’s -shoulders and giving him an affectionate shake or two. “Why, you old -vinegarroon, I’ve been scared to look off a cliff or into a pot hole -for fear I’d see a coyote sneakin’ away from your ornery carcass! -Thought sure that gosh-awful thing had got you!” He stopped to -breathe. “Who was doing that shootin’? You?” - -Abington nodded, a bit surprised at the lump in his throat which -prevented speech. - -“Shootin’ at the gosh-awful? You git it?” Bill’s voice dropped to a -vengeful whisper as he sent a wholly involuntary glance behind him. - -“No, Bill, I didn’t. Some one down here took a shot at me and I shot -back. He’s lying over here by the cliff.” - -“Yeah?” Astonishment pulled Bill’s hand off the other’s shoulder. -“Who do you reckon-- Was it an officer?” An indefinable change had -crept into his voice. - -“No, I don’t think so. He isn’t dead yet. Come over and take a look. -We’ll have to do something--get him into a shelter of some kind. -These nights are too chilly for a wounded man to lie out -unprotected.” - -Once more Abington was calm and cool and efficient. He turned and -led the way back to the wounded man, Bill Jonathan following at his -heels quite as if there had been neither quarrel nor separation to -jar them out of the routine of the trail. - - - - -CHAPTER XII--THE MAN WHO VANISHED - - -Bill got up off his knees, glanced this way and that as though -looking for something of which he stood in urgent need, and turned a -bleak gaze again upon the huddled figure on the ground. - -“We better get a fire started,” he said to Abington, unconsciously -taking the initiative as if this was his own particular affair and -he alone must acquit himself well in the emergency. “I’ll scout -around with the light. Maybe I can find a cave--his camp, if it’s -down in here. Don’t suppose he’ll jar loose any information--” - -Bill continued to stare down at the man, his underjaw thrust out and -in his face a certain implacable hardness that brought him a second -puzzled glance from Abington. - -“Where’s your camp?” Bill demanded abruptly. - -The man seemed to draw himself together as if he feared a blow. The -murderous eyes flinched away from Bill’s relentless stare. “Find -out--if you think--you can!” he snarled. - -“Oh, I’ll find it! Don’t you worry a minute,” Bill said viciously. -“If necessary, you’ll tell where it is.” - -“I won’t tell you. You can go ahead--kill me--be done with it--” The -wounded man defied him weakly. - -“Who, me?” The savage bitterness of Bill’s laugh was a revelation to -Abington. “Me kill you? I should sa-ay not! You mind what I told you -two years ago, Jack! That still goes. Don’t think you can die and -duck out from under in that way. I’ll nurse you like a sick baby! -You’ll get well, see? Well enough to travel, anyway.” He turned -abruptly away as if he would not trust himself to say more. - -Presently a fire was crackling beside the cliff and Bill had brought -water in his hat for Abington’s use in cleansing the wound. - -“Fix him up best you can, professor,” said Bill. “Then if you can -make out with the fire for light, I’ll borrow the lamp and beat it -over to where I cached our stuff. There’s that first-aid kit we -saved outa the wreck; I’ll bring it and some grub. It ain’t far. -Just over the ridge, half a mile, maybe.” - -He drew Abington to one side, out of hearing of the wounded man. -“That’s Jack Huntley, professor. He’s got to be put in shape for the -trip in to Vegas. It’s a matter of life and death. So do what you -can--I know you’re a pretty good doctor when it comes to a pinch. -I’ll be right back. Well--hang onto him, professor, till I get back -with the stuff. Don’t let him sneak out on you!” - -“If he does,” said Abington grimly, “it will be because he sneaks -into the next world. I’ll try and not let that happen, Bill, my -lad.” - -He stood watching the round zone of white light go dancing away and -up the hill without any visible means of locomotion, since Bill -walked behind it, slipping from rock to rock, pausing and poising -here, flitting on again like Peter Pan’s good fairy Tinker Bell. A -fantastic comparison in that wild glen where men of past ages had -met for their wooing or their warring or to hide from strange beasts -that roamed the valley; where even now the air seemed charged with a -malignant kind of hate, and with fear that passed all reason--since -the man called Jack Huntley had been assured of the best care they -could give him. - -All the while Abington sat by the fire and waited for Bill, he felt -the cold malevolence of the soul behind those staring eyes and the -close-shut lips. Though the fancy did not trouble him, it seemed too -that the shades of those savage ones of long ago hovered -inquisitively in the shadows that fringed the firelight; timid wild -folk who dared not walk boldly among these strange men of a later -age, yet lingered, curious to see what grim drama was about to be -played here where the stage was set with the somber trappings more -suited to an old Greek tragedy than of everyday life. - -The return of Bill, heavily burdened and with the white light -dancing impishly before him, did not spoil the illusion but served -instead to deepen it; for the crudely efficient surgery was -completed in silence or curt undertones that held a sinister quality -of ominous reserve. The white light painted grotesque shadows on the -brown-sandstone cliff beside them, gigantic caricatures of men in -gruesome pantomime that might have been the enactment of a torture -scene, with two fiends performing demoniac rites over some luckless -victim. - -Bill afterward boiled coffee and mixed a bannock in which he stirred -small fragments of cold fried bacon left over from his supper. -Abington ate ravenously, and afterward the two smoked beside the -fire, Jack Huntley lying wrapped in their two blankets. - -As the Great Dipper tilted more and more toward the polestar, fever -unlocked the stubborn lips of the wounded man and he muttered -endlessly, his sordid secrets betrayed with pitiless repetition. All -about millions in carnetite, he babbled, and how “they” would never -get it away from him, because he was too smart for them; it was -crazy talk, interrupted whenever Abington bent over him ministering -to his comfort, doing what he could to allay the fever. - - * * * * * - -Beside the fire Bill Jonathan brooded, lifting his head to listen -when the fellow’s delirium seemed to take a different turn, or some -movement roused him from his somber meditations. - -Dawn was beginning to work its daily miracle on hills and sky when -Bill replenished the fire and turned to Abington, who was sitting -with lean fingers clasped around his knees and a cold pipe dangling -from between his teeth. - -“What do you think of the case, professor? Think he’ll get well, all -right?” Bill’s tone made the question seem only the preliminary to -what was really in his mind. - -Abington yawned. “No reason why he shouldn’t, Bill. I recovered the -bullet; it’s a clean wound and no vital organs were injured. He -should get well without much trouble--if proper care is used.” - -Bill turned away without a word, though it was plain that his mind -was full of troubled thoughts. They cooked breakfast and ate in -silence. The wounded man had fallen asleep, with the sunlight softly -warm on his blanketed shoulder. - -Once Bill turned his head and stared long at the man, then looked at -Abington, lips parted for speech that after all was withheld. -Abington lifted an eyebrow inquiringly and Bill looked away. - -“What’s on your mind?” Abington asked finally, setting down his -empty cup. “They say confession is good for the soul.” - -“Yeah. So’s a few other things. Come on over here on these rocks, -professor. That old possum is liable to be listenin’.” - -“I don’t think so,” Abington cheerfully disagreed, but he followed -Bill to a pile of boulders some distance away, where they could talk -without disturbing the patient, or being overheard by him. - -“Now, there’s a question I’d like to ask you, professor. Who did you -think you was shootin’ at last night, when you ventilated Jack -Huntley’s liver?” - -Abington’s lips twitched. “At you, Bill.” - -“Yeah?” Bill’s jaw stiffened. “Want another try?” - -“No, I don’t think so. This man has complicated matters, but he has -also cleared up a few things for me.” - -“Yeah, and he’ll clear up more--for me,” Bill opined. “If it’s a -fair question, I’d like to know where you’ve been since yesterday.” - -“Well, not to relate all of my thrilling adventures, I have been -wandering around through a series of caves and in the course of time -I found myself in a cavern in the top of that peak up there. I judge -it to be the one where I saw the reflection of the sun on field -glasses. While trying to find my way out of there, I picked up a -half-smoked cigarette, of the oval kind which I use.” - -“Yeah? One of the flat ones? Kinda backtracked yourself, eh?” - -“No-o--for very good reasons I knew that I had never been there -before. I thought I had crossed your trail, Bill, my lad.” - -“Not mine, professor.” Bill shook his head. “I’ve been huntin’ the -hills over by our cave, lookin’ for you. I was workin’ over this way -when I heard the shootin’ last night.” - -“Yes. Well, a bit later I came across a cache of food taken from our -outfit across the valley.” - -“The hell you did!” Bill started, and nearly dropped his cigarette. -“You sure?” - -“Absolutely sure. I ate two cans of our Imperial corned -beef--breakfast and dinner. I expected you to show up there, but of -course you didn’t. It would make a splendid hideout, Bill. There’s a -spring, and cracks in the rock let in sunlight, a perfect retreat. -Impossible to come at one from the rear--” - -Abington paused and his shoulders moved involuntarily. He was -thinking of the Pool of Evil Death. “I’ll show you the place. When I -am through in this country you’ll find it useful, no doubt.” - -“Not unless Jack Huntley dies. If I can ever get him in somehow to -the sheriff, I won’t need to hide out in the hills. Unless,” Bill -added dubiously, “they cinch me for that car I run over the cliff.” -His eyes clouded. He had forgotten about the destruction of that -car. - -“I expect they’d hand me about five years for that,” he added -gloomily, after a pause. “Where’s the way into that cave of yours?” - -“I’d have to lead you to the spot and show you. There’s time enough. -I shall want to go back and make a thorough examination of the place -for science.” - -Bill looked up. “I’ll have to disappoint you about them stone men, -professor, I run acrost the cañon yesterday where the hole went into -the cave. There’s been a big slide in there. I couldn’t tell within -a hundred feet, where the opening used to be. We’d have to tear down -the whole mountain to find it.” - -Abington said nothing. Creeping into his mind again came suspicion. -Had Bill ever known where there was such a cave? Surely that slide -had chosen a most convenient time and place for Bill Jonathan! - -“I know where it was,” Bill said doggedly, as if he read the -thought. “I can show you the slide; you can see it for yourself, -professor.” - -“My college of science is not collecting slides,” Abington drawled. -“Well, I must be getting back to my patient. If he’s awake, he may -want to eat something.” - -He rose, but Bill had not finished, it seemed. He remained seated on -the rock hunched over his cigarette and staring morosely across the -little lake. - -“So you think I lied to you,” muttered Bill. “You think I’ve been -stalling you along! That goes kinda tough, professor. I’ve been -dodgin’ around in the hills--yes, sure I have! But I ain’t going to -dodge no more and you can go to hell and hunt your own Adamses. You -wait till I lead that bird in to the sheriff and make him come -clean! It’s him that’ll take a ride to Carson--not me.” - -“And the car?” Abington asked softly, his beard hiding a smile. - -“Aw, hell!” growled Bill, jerked back to harsh realities. - -In his bitterness over the sudden frustration of his hopes, Abington -would not speak a word of comfort. Not even the rich storehouse of -ancient records in the labyrinth of caves could quite console him at -the moment, his heart had been so set on taking back to his college -a fossilized man of the Cretaceous period. - -He walked moodily over to the makeshift bed of his patient and -stared blankly. There was no patient. A shout brought Bill and the -two nosed along the cliff like hounds baffled over a warm trail -suddenly wiped out with water. - -Because the man had been obliged to crawl, it was manifestly -impossible for him to get far. Even so, they were a good half hour -in running him down and then it was the slight indentations of his -knees in a skift of sand behind a bush that gave the clew. - -Bill went down on all fours and disappeared. After a minute or two, -Abington followed. - -It might have been an oversized badger hole, so far as outward -appearances went. Even in his haste the trained mind of Abington -noted a cunning arrangement of rocks deliberately piled haphazard -against the cliff at some time long past, as the twisted roots of -old bushes and trees clinging the twining down through the -dirt-filled interstices gave mute testimony. - -Yet the rock pile was in reality a solid, arched covering for the -sloped entrance to another cave, in the mouth of which Jack Huntley -lay sweating with the pain of his wound, as frenziedly malevolent as -a rattler pinned under a rock. - -Kneeling facing each other with the wounded man gasping curses -between them, Abington and Bill Jonathan locked glances; Abington’s -eyes coldly searching; Bill’s defiant, hurt and trying to cover a -certain wistfulness he would have denied with much profanity. - -“He’s got to clear me with the law!” Bill said between clenched -jaws. “He’s the only man on earth that can do it. He pulled the -robbery they laid onto me and if he don’t come clean I’ll kill him -inch by inch!” - - * * * * * - -Jack Huntley turned his head and sent a glance to Bill’s face; -shifted his eyes to Abington’s, that were black as ebony and quite -as hard; turned again to Bill and met a cold stare that shriveled -his courage to whining cowardice. - -“Don’t you, Bill! I--I’m done for! You can’t hurt a dying man! You -wouldn’t have the heart!” - -“Oh, wouldn’t I?” Bill’s laugh was in itself a threat. “Say! I got -about as much heart as them stone men we’re after. You wait and see -how much heart I’ve got for you--you hound!” - -“It’s murder!” Jack Huntley’s voice rose to a shriek. “You wouldn’t -stand by and see him kill a man that--that’s all shot up--” His eyes -turned glassily to Abington. - -“Why shouldn’t I?” Never had Abington’s voice been more casually -brutal. “You’re going to die anyway, you know.” - -“Yeah, and you won’t die so darned peaceful, either,” Bill added -darkly. - -“Of course you can save yourself a good deal of suffering,” Abington -pointed out in his calm professional tone, “by writing a full -confession. In that case I should feel obliged to protect you from -Bill’s vengeful nature.” - -“It’s worse than Injuns!” Huntley cried, his fear rising to panic. - -“Not if you write the truth,” Abington pointed out, taking from an -inner pocket a water-warped notebook. “Here’s a fountain pen which -may contain enough ink, unless you wax overeloquent. Write the -truth, Huntley. I’ll take care of Bill.” - -“You’ll have a hell of a time, professor, if he don’t clean his -dirty soul right down to the bottom!” - -“I’ll have to be raised up,” whined the sick man, darting furtive -glances here and there as if, even yet, he hoped by some miracle to -escape. - -“For legal purposes,” Abington directed, holding Huntley up and -giving Bill a quelling look, “begin like this: ‘I, Jack Huntley, of -sound mind--and of my own free will--do hereby confess--that on -the--’” - -It was Bill himself who named the date, snapping the words out with -a savage click of the teeth. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII--A CLEVER IDEA - - -Halting, hating to set down in plain words the full extent of his -guilt, driven to it by the relentless promptings of Bill, Jack -Huntley wrote three precious pages, that would make interesting -reading for the county officials, before he signed his name. -Abington saw the teary warning of the pen going dry and dropping -blots on the book, and signed his name as a witness before all the -ink ran out. The thing was done. - -Bill threw back his shoulders with an unconscious gesture of relief, -and stepped away. “Now, die and be damned to you!” he said as he -turned his back and walked off. - -Abington looked after him grinning. “This is where he holes up, -Bill. He should have a pretty fair equipment. Better explore around -a little. I have carbide tied up in my handkerchief, if you need the -lamp. But the place seems well lighted from above.” - -“Yeah, I’m sure goin’ to look around. I believe he’s the one -poisoned our burros. I bet--” - -Abington looked up, got to his feet and started toward Bill, who had -given a sudden bellowing whoop. - -“Well, the hound!” Bill was balancing two large mescal stalks in his -hands. Light they were as cork, tough as bamboo, large at the base -as Bill’s muscular leg above the knee. Three feet from the base of -each was a foot rest, lashed securely to the stalk. - -“There’s the gosh-awful!” Bill said in the incredulous tone of one -who can scarcely believe his own eyes. “Look at how them sticks is -cut on the bottom, professor! Sheep hoofs to a T. Stilts! And that’s -how the thing took such long steps and got over the country so -almighty mysterious!” - -“Ingenious!” Abington declared, balancing the stilts in his hands -before he stood them against the wall of the cave. “Simple, too. I -had a suspicion of some such thing, but dismissed it as impractical -in so rough a country.” - -“I dunno. They’re light as paper. They could be carried easy enough -on rocky ground, and just used for sand and gravel.” He paused. “Now -I know he poisoned the burros. He seen your camp set up in plain -sight, and come straddlin’ over there. A feller can cover a lot of -country on stilts, once he gets used to walking on them. I used to -when I was a kid.” - -Abington, however, was not quite satisfied. There lacked the motive -and he spoke of it. “If he had raided camps and carried off the -supplies, I could understand it. But this attempt at terrorization, -and the insane destruction of good food, does not come within the -bounds of logic.” - -“Yeah, but you don’t know that bird like I do,” returned Bill. “He’s -what God used for a pattern when He made the first drove of hogs. -You mind all that talk last night? That about having millions in -carnetite, and being richer than Rockefeller? Jack thinks he’s got -hold of something in here and he’s been trying to scare everybody -off. Maybe he’s got something worth holdin’ on to and maybe he -ain’t. If he has, I sure feel I’m entitled to grab it!” - -Abington was walking around the roomy chamber, flicking this thing -and that thing with a glance, overlooking nothing. He stooped over a -pile of whitish rock stained thickly with great blobs of bright -yellow, selected a lump and looked up, seeking an opening where the -strongest light fell through. He went over and stood under the -light, turning the rock this way and that while he examined it -through a miner’s glass. - -“So this is his millions in carnetite!” he said contemptuously at -last, tossing the sample to Bill, who caught it dexterously as a -catcher cups palms for a ball. “More than one poor devil has been -fooled by limonite. That’s what this is, if I am not badly mistaken, -a yellow ocher, resembling carnetite. There’s your revenge. Bill. Go -tell him his millions in carnetite are just a dream. Tell him it’s -limonite. If he’s greedy as you say, that will be punishment -enough.” - -“Not when he thinks he’s dying,” Bill grumbled. “He won’t give a -darn. What’s he flopping around like that for?” he asked sharply. -“Something bite him, do you s’pose? If it did, it’ll die,” he went -on sententiously. - - * * * * * - -Abington ran over to where Jack Huntley lay on the ground. He could -do nothing, with the primitive means at hand. Huntley had indeed -been bitten--by death. Whether the wound had been more serious than -Abington diagnosed it, or whether he had injured himself in crawling -to the cave, they could not of course do more than guess. Within -half an hour Jack Huntley lay dead on the floor of the cave. - -“This means that I must go in and have a talk with the sheriff,” -Abington observed. “A mere formality, but one I prefer not to -neglect. Want to come along, Bill? I’ll pay them for the car, far as -that goes.” - -“Yeah, I guess maybe I better go in and have it over with. I’ll pay -you back in work, professor, if you’ll go ahead and settle for that -darn car I wrecked. But don’t let ’em stick you on the price of it. -It wasn’t worth more’n two or three hundred dollars.” - -“I’m a fair judge of cars,” Abington remarked. “It will be all -right, Bill.” - -“Yeah. And when we come back in here with a fresh outfit, professor, -we better bring along a couple of good muckers and some powder. I -believe I can maybe locate the hole into that cave, if I can take my -time and have some help. Or maybe we can find another way in there. -We sure oughta come fixed to spend the whole winter in here. I found -a lot more carvings than I’d ever saw before.” - -Abington laughed to himself, and clapped a hand down on Bill’s -shoulder. “Bill, my lad, that’s the true scientific spirit! You’ll -be an Adam chaser as long as you live, now you’ve started.” - -“Yeah,” said Bill, staring around him at the encircling red hills. -“They’re in here somewhere, professor. Eight feet tall and big -accordin’. No foolin’. I seen ’em myself. Well, let’s bury the dead -and get ready and beat it. We want to get back in here while the -good weather holds.” - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADAM CHASER *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. 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Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/67834-0.zip b/old/67834-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index a93db0e..0000000 --- a/old/67834-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/67834-h.zip b/old/67834-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 858fd75..0000000 --- a/old/67834-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/67834-h/67834-h.htm b/old/67834-h/67834-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index f6557db..0000000 --- a/old/67834-h/67834-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3362 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<head> - <meta charset="UTF-8" /> - <title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Adam Chaser, by B. M. Bower</title> - <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover" /> - <style> - body { margin-left:8%; margin-right:8%; } - p { text-indent:1.15em; margin-top:0.1em; margin-bottom:0.1em; text-align:justify; } - h1 { text-align:center; font-weight:normal; page-break-before: always; - font-size:1.4em; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; } - h2 { text-align:center; font-weight:normal; page-break-before: always; - font-size:1.0em; margin-top:3em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; } - h2.nobreak { page-break-before: avoid; } - div.section { page-break-before:always; margin-top:4em; margin-bottom:4em; } - div.chapter { page-break-before:always; margin-top:4em; margin-bottom:4em; } - .ce { text-align:center; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; } - table.toc {} - .caption { text-indent:0; padding:0.5em 0; text-align:center; font-size:smaller; } - h1 { text-align:center; font-weight:normal; font-size:1.4em; } - ul { list-style-type:none; } - li { margin-bottom:0.5em; } - .tac { text-align:center; } - .ti0 { text-indent:0; } - .fs09 { font-size:0.9em; } - .tn { background-color:linen; font-size:0.9em; border:1px solid silver; margin-top:1.8em; margin-left:8%; margin-bottom:1em; width:80%; padding:0.4em 2%; } - .figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; - page-break-inside: avoid; - max-width: 100%; - } - hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 1.2em; - margin-bottom: 1.2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; - } - hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} - hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} - div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} - div.section {page-break-before: always;} - h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} - </style> -</head> -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Adam Chaser, by B. M. Bower</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Adam Chaser</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: B. M. Bower</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: April 19, 2022 [eBook #67834]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Roger Frank and Sue Clark.</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADAM CHASER ***</div> - -<div class='section'> - <div class="figcenter" style='width:60%'> - <img id="coverpage" src="images/cover.jpg" style='width:100%' alt="Cover" /> - </div> - <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - <h1>THE ADAM CHASER</h1> - <p class='tac ti0'>By B. M. Bower<br /> - <span class='fs09'> - Author of “Black Thunder,” “The Meadowlark Name,” Etc. - </span> - </p> - <div class='tn'> - <p class='ti0'>Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in - the September 7, 1925 issue of <i>The Popular Magazine</i>.</p> - </div> - <div class="figcenter" id="titlepage" style="width: 35%; margin-top: 2em;"> - <img src="images/titlepage.jpg" alt="" style='width:100%' /> - </div> - <blockquote style='font-size:0.9em;'> - Treasures of the storied past, records of prehistoric settlements - of the American Indian, lure a young archaeologist, Professor Abington, - to the Sonora caves of Arizona where fate plays him a grim trick, - and makes him arbiter of the destinies of living men. - </blockquote> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> -<h2 class='nobreak' id='chI' title='I—A Bad Hombre'> -<span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER I</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>A BAD HOMBRE</span> -</h2> - -<p>Halfway up a long cañon that cut a six-mile gash through rugged -mountains thinly pock-marked with prospect holes, the radiator cap -of John Abington’s car blew off with a pop like amateur home-brew.</p> - -<p>For a matter of a minute, perhaps, that particular brand of -automobile developed a lively hot-water geyser. Followed a brief -period of steaming, and after that it stalled definitely and set -square in the trail which ran through deep sandy gravel and rock -rubble—a hot car and a sulky one, if you know what I mean.</p> - -<p>Abington harried the starter with vicious jabs of his heel, then -crawled reluctantly out into the blistering wind which felt as if it -were driving down the sunlight with sharp needle points of heat that -stung and smarted the skin where they struck.</p> - -<p>The canteens were buried deep under much camp paraphernalia, a -circumstance which gave occasion for a few minutes of eloquent -monologue. Curiously, the driver’s vituperation was directed neither -at the car nor the wind nor the heat, but at an absent individual -whom he called “Shorty”—and at another named Pete.</p> - -<p>Considerable luggage was shifted before the canteens were finally -excavated from the floor of the tonneau; both canteens, because the -first one was so completely empty that it made no sound when -Abington impatiently shook it.</p> - -<p>He was standing beside the car, mechanically sloshing a pint or so -of water in the second grimy, flat-bottomed canteen, when a -dust-covered roadster came coasting down the four-per-cent grade of -the cañon half a mile or so away. He glanced at the approaching car, -set the canteen in the sand and helped himself to a cigarette from a -silver-trimmed leather case. Abington was leaning against the rear -fender in the narrow bit of shade when the roadster came down upon -him, slowed with a squealing of dry brakes and stopped perforce. In -the rocks and deep sand that bordered the road a caterpillar truck -could scarcely have driven around the stalled car.</p> - -<p>“In trouble?” A perspiring tanned face leaned out, squinting ahead -into the sun through desert-wrinkled eyelids.</p> - -<p>“None whatever,” Abington calmly replied, smiling to make the words -cheerful. “I’m waiting here for the car to cool off a bit. I hope -you’re not in a hurry?”</p> - -<p>The driver of the roadster slanted a quick glance at his companion, -who slumped sidewise in the seat with his hat pulled low over his -eyes.</p> - -<p>“Kinda. Got plenty of water?” This in a hopeful tone, which his next -sentence explained. “I’m kinda short, myself, but I’ll hit Mina -before long, so I ain’t worrying. How much you going to need? Half a -canteen do you any good?”</p> - -<p>The stalled driver walked forward with a loose, negligent stride -which nevertheless covered the ground with amazing ease. From under -straight, black brows his eyes looked forth with apparent -negligence, though they saw a great deal with a flicking glance or -two.</p> - -<p>“It might take me back to where I can fill my canteens, sheriff. I -don’t suppose there’s a quart of water in the radiator, and -everything’s empty. My fault. I discharged a couple of men I had -with me, and I should have been on my guard against some such trick -as this. As it was, I failed to stand over them while they unloaded -their plunder from the car. At any rate, here I am for the present.”</p> - -<p>“Tough luck. I’ll let you have what water I’ve got, but it ain’t -much. She kept heating on me, climbing the summit. How far you -going?”</p> - -<p>“Back to Mina. I want to find those two fellows I let off there.” -Abington’s questing black eyes rested on the roadster’s other -occupant, shifted to the driver’s hard yet not unkindly face, and he -waved the cigarette significantly.</p> - -<p>“Better give this fellow a drink, before I empty the canteen.” He -nodded toward the slack figure. “And if you’ll pardon the -suggestion, sheriff, I’d turn him loose for a bit. Pretty rough -riding, even when you’ve got all your hands and feet to hang on by.”</p> - -<p>The other gave a short, apologetic laugh.</p> - -<p>“Say, this feller’s plumb mean—that’s why I got him shackled that -way. Car broke down, the other side of Tonopah, and I’m taking him -through alone. He’s a slippery cuss. Had us chasin’ him off and on -for two years. I can’t take any chances.”</p> - -<p>“You’re not.” If the tone was ironic the eyes were friendly enough. -“But the man looks sick. A drink of water and a smoke won’t make him -any more dangerous, I imagine.”</p> - -<p>“Yeah, I know he acts sick, and he looks sick. But it might be a -stall, at that,” The officer turned and eyed his prisoner -doubtfully. “I don’t want to be hard on anybody—and I don’t want to -be bashed over the bean and throwed out on the desert to die, -neither! She’s a lonely road—I’ll tell anybody.”</p> - -<p>For all that, he got out, unlocked the tool box on the running -board, took out a smaller box of screws, bolts, nuts and cotter -pins, fumbled within it with thumb and finger and finally produced a -small flat key.</p> - -<p>“Never pays to be in a hurry to git a pair of handcuffs open,” he -muttered to Abington. “This way’s safe as I can make it. He’s a bad -hombre.”</p> - -<p>Abington nodded understanding and stood back while the deputy -sheriff walked around the car and freed his passenger from the -handcuffs which were fastened behind his back.</p> - -<p>For an appreciable space the fellow drooped indifferently where he -was, not even taking the trouble to rub his chafed wrists, though -they must have pained him considerably, swollen and discolored as -they were with the snug steel bands and the awkward position forced -upon him.</p> - -<p>“Have a drink of water,” Abington suggested, not too kindly. More as -if he were speaking to a man who was free to go where he pleased.</p> - -<p>The fellow looked up at him, nodded and lifted a hand shaking from -cramp. Abington unscrewed the cap and steadied the canteen to the -man’s mouth. He drank thirstily, pushed the canteen away with the -back of his hand, lifted his hat and drew a palm across his flushed -forehead where the veins stood out like heavy cords drawn just under -the skin.</p> - -<p>“Thanks!” He gave Abington another glance, a gleam in his eyes as of -throttled speech.</p> - -<p>“Have a smoke. Here, keep the case while we’re getting the car -started.” Abington glanced at the officer. “You’ve no objection, I -suppose?”</p> - -<p>“Hell, no! What do you take me for? Just because I use some -precautions against being brained while I’m busy driving don’t mean -I’m hard boiled.” He sent a measuring glance toward either side of -the straight-walled cañon. Within half a mile there was no cover for -a man, and the cliffs rose sheer. “You can get out if you want to, -Bill,” he said to the prisoner. “Guess you won’t go far with them -leg irons.”</p> - -<p>“Thanks.” The prisoner’s voice was perfunctory, and he seemed in no -great hurry to avail himself of the privilege. While the others -walked to the stalled car—the deputy watching over his -shoulder—the prisoner sat where he was, smoking a cigarette from -Abington’s leather-and-silver case.</p> - -<p>The stalled car refused to start. That mechanical condition, which -is called freezing, held the cylinders locked fast until such time -as the expansion subsided, and in the fierce heat of that cañon the -motor cooled very slowly. Abington suggested coasting backward to -the first place where a turnout had been provided.</p> - -<p>“There’s a turnout, back here a couple of hundred yards or such a -matter. If you can give me a push over this little hump, I think the -car will roll down the road easily enough,” he explained. “I’ll have -to keep it in the road, sheriff, or I could manage alone.”</p> - -<p>The deputy rather liked being called sheriff, and he was anxious to -reach Carson City that evening with his prisoner. Until Abington’s -car moved out of the way, he himself was stalled, since he could not -move forward more than the hundred feet which separated the two -cars. There was no other road down that cañon.</p> - -<p>“If Bill Jonathan wasn’t feeling so tough, I’d take off the hobbles -and make him get out and help,” he grumbled, looking back at the -roadster. “But I guess he’s sick, all right. He ain’t left the car -yet. Well, you get in and hold ’er in the ruts, Mister”</p> - -<p>“My name is Abington. I’m an archaeologist—”</p> - -<p>“That right? My name’s Park. I’m sure glad to meet you, Doctor -Abington. Heard a lot about you and them petrified animals and -things you’ve been digging up. Got the brake off? All right—”</p> - -<p>But the best he could do, just at first, was to rock the car a few -inches each way. Between shoves he looked over his shoulder. The -prisoner apparently preferred the shade of the car to the heat of -the sun, and Park soon ceased to worry about him. Midway between -Tonopah and Mina would be a poor spot to choose for a walk away, -even if the man were free to walk, he reflected.</p> - -<p>However desperate he might be, Bill Jonathan was no fool. He knew -well enough that Park would shoot at the first hint of trouble. The -deputy grunted and turned his attention to the work at hand.</p> - -<p>Abington got out and helped claw the hot loose sand away from behind -the rear wheels, got in again and steered while Park braced himself -and heaved against the front fender. The car moved backward nearly a -foot, and the two grinned triumphantly at one another.</p> - -<p>“Next time—I’ll get her—Doctor Abington!” the deputy puffed, -glancing over his shoulder as he mopped trickles of sweat from face -and neck. A thin wreath of cigarette smoke waved out from the -prisoner’s side of the roadster, and Park grinned at Abington behind -the wheel.</p> - -<p>“Hope you’re well fixed for cigarettes!” He chuckled good-humoredly. -“Bill’s trying to smoke enough to last till he gets outa the pen, -looks like.”</p> - -<p>“He’s welcome,” Abington returned, a smile hidden under his pointed -black beard. “I’ve plenty more.”</p> - -<p>“Just as you say. All right, let’s give her another shove. Gosh, -it’s hot!”</p> - -<p>Grunting and straining, Park moved the car three feet backward to -where a nest of small stones halted it again. Encouraged by the -small progress, the two knelt again behind the rear wheels and began -to paw a clear path in the gravel. The “hump,” one of those small -ridges which characterized desert roads, would be passed within the -next six feet.</p> - -<p>At the precise moment when Park was kneeling with his back half -turned from his own car, he heard his starter whir with an instant -roar of the motor just under a full feed of gas.</p> - -<p>The roadster shot backward up the trail, guided evidently by guess -and a helpful divinity, since Bill Jonathan’s head never once -appeared outside the car to watch the trail behind him. Park jumped -up, pulled his old-fashioned range-model Colt and fixed six shots in -rapid succession, evidently realizing that he must get them all in -before the car was out of range. With the sixth shot the glass was -seen to fly from a headlight, then the hammer clicked futilely -against an empty shell.</p> - -<p>Park swore as he started running up the trail after the car, the -driver’s head now plainly in sight as he leaned out and watched the -road. A good fifteen miles an hour he was making in reverse; and -unless a car came down the cañon and stopped him as Park had been -halted, for the simple reason that he could not turn out, Bill -Jonathan seemed in a fair way of making his escape.</p> - -<p>“The damn fool! He can’t get far with them leg irons on!” Park -grunted, coming to a stop where the roadster had stood. “That’s what -I get for being so damn soft hearted! I <em>told</em> you he was a -bad hombre, Doctor Abington!”</p> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> -<h2 class='nobreak' id='chII' title='II—Symbols of Mystery'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER II</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>SYMBOLS OF MYSTERY</span> -</h2> - -<p>Abington walked forward a few steps, stooped and picked up his -cigarette case from the hot sand of the trail.</p> - -<p>“Spencer founded his whole philosophy on the premise that there is a -soul of goodness even in things evil,” he observed with the little -hidden smile tucked into the corners of his black-bearded lips. -“Your man has made off with your car, but he very thoughtfully -returned my cigarette case—not altogether empty, either. Not -knowing I have a full carton in the car, he has left us a cigarette -apiece; which proves the soul of goodness within the evil. Will you -have a smoke, sheriff?”</p> - -<p>“Might as well, I guess,” Park grumbled, his eyes on the departing -car. “This is a hell of a note! Doctor Abington, what we’ve got to -do is make it in to Mina and get word out to the different towns -before Bill can make Tonopah or Goldfield.</p> - -<p>“Thunder! Who’d ever think he’d try to pull off a stunt like that? I -was going to take the irons off his legs, but I kinda had a hunch -not to. Never dreamed he’d pull out with the car while his legs was -shackled; did you?”</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid my mind was quite taken up with my own problem.” -Abington confessed in a slightly apologetic tone. “I’m not -accustomed to chasing live men, you know. It’s the dead ones I’m -interested in, and the longer they’ve been dead the better.</p> - -<p>“Nevertheless, sheriff, I realize your predicament. If there’s a -long-distance telephone in Mina you can intercept the fellow at -Tonopah, I should think.” He was thoughtfully turning the cigarette -case over in his fingers as if his habit was to admire its glossy -brown leather and the silver filigree. Now he slipped it into his -pocket and turned to retrace his steps.</p> - -<p>“I suppose we ought to get the old boat headed down the trail, -sheriff. Your prisoner went off with your canteen, you know, so -we’ll have to pet my motor along as best we can. But she’ll roll -down the cañon in neutral, and then we’ll drive it as far as we -can—which may not be far.</p> - -<p>“At the turnout, down the road here, I’ll get the car headed in the -other direction, and it wouldn’t surprise me if we beat your man in, -after all. Will he have gas enough to take him to Tonopah?”</p> - -<p>“Lord, yes! I filled the tank plumb full, and it’s one of them old -thirty-gallon tanks. But somebody’ll maybe run across him trying to -fill the radiator or something, and see the leg irons and take him -in. Tires ain’t none too good—maybe he’ll have tire trouble. I sure -hope so,” he added unnecessarily.</p> - -<p>Abington, leaning to push at the side of the car while he kept one -hand on the steering wheel, did not answer. Park added his weight at -the front fender, straining until his gloomy countenance went -purple. The car rolled over the hump, and Abington hopped nimbly to -the running board, watched his chance and straddled in behind the -wheel.</p> - -<hr class='tb' /> - -<p style='margin-top:1em;'>Some time was lost in negotiating the turn. After that, coasting -down the road with a dead engine cooled the cylinders considerably. -By skillful management Abington was able to start the motor and use -what power was needed to drive the car up over certain small knolls -near the foot of the cañon.</p> - -<p>At the edge of the long valley, a hill gave them momentum sufficient -to carry them well down toward a white, leprous expanse, called Soda -Lake, with a tiny settlement a few miles beyond. Here, in the chuck -holes of the soda-incrusted lake bed, the car refused to go any -farther without power, and power in that grilling heat required a -full radiator.</p> - -<p>Even so, the two made fair time walking, and at the settlement -Abington was able to hire a man to haul water out to the car. Also, -Park was successful in getting wires through to the sheriff’s office -at Tonopah, and also at Goldfield, the only points he believed Bill -Jonathan would attempt to reach.</p> - -<p>“If you like, sheriff, we can follow up your man at once,” -Abington suggested when Park came out of the telegraph office -looking less worried. “I’m willing to postpone the pleasure of -chastising Shorty and Pete, and drive you straight through to -Tonopah. Water is the only thing I needed for the trip, and the man -is waiting out here with a full supply, ready to drive us back to my -car. At the most we will be only three hours behind the fugitive -and, as you say, he can’t do much with leg irons on.</p> - -<p>“He’ll need to have a remarkable run of luck if he reaches there -ahead of us. For instance, your motor had been heating, and you had -only half a canteen of water. As I remember the road, there’s a -long, hard climb for several miles beyond that cañon. He’ll be -compelled to fill up with water at that spring just over the summit; -one stop, at least, where he will have enough awkward walking to -hold him there twice as long as a man with his legs free. So—”</p> - -<p>“Say, Doctor Abington, you sure can figure things out!” Park grinned -while he bit the end off a forlorn-looking cigar he had just bought -at the little store. “You ought to be a detective.”</p> - -<p>“I am. I’ve been trying to detect the origin of the human race, for -years now,” Abington smiled. “It’s the same kind of figuring brought -down to modern conditions. If you’re ready, sheriff, we’ll get -underway.”</p> - -<p>So back they went, roaring up the long rough trail to the cañon and -on to Tonopah. They did not meet a soul on the way, nor did they -overtake Bill Jonathan and the roadster. Neither did they glimpse -anywhere a sign of his turning aside from the main highway, though -Park’s eyes watered from watching intently the trail.</p> - -<p>Abington proved to be a scientifically reckless driver and a silent -one withal. Within an incredibly short time he landed a grateful -deputy at the sheriff’s office in Tonopah, bade him an unperturbed -adieu, drove his car into a garage and established himself -comfortably in the best hotel the town afforded—all with the brisk, -purposeful air of one who is clearing away small matters so that he -may take up the business which really engrosses his mind.</p> - -<p>In his room at the hotel John Abington dragged the most comfortable -chair directly under the two-globe chandelier, lighted a cigarette -from the pasteboard box which he took from his pocket, and pulled -out the leather cigarette case as if this was what he had been all -along preparing to do.</p> - -<p>“Got a tack from the upholstery, no doubt, for a stylus,” he -mused. “Old car—binding probably loose on the door pocket—that’s -where it gives first. H’m! That’s what he waited for. Knew he meant -to escape, of course—saw it in his eyes. H’m! Let’s see, now.”</p> - -<p>Abington blew a cloud of smoke and thoughtfully examined the case as -he turned it over slowly in his hand, just as he had done when he -picked it up in the cañon road.</p> - -<p>As he studied it his lips moved in that silent musing speech which -was his habit —the black beard offering perfect concealment for his -soundless whisperings.</p> - -<p>“H’m! Clever of him—hieroglyphics adapted to code work. Let’s see. -The old Babylonian ‘chain of evil’—three links, meaning ‘not so -bad.’ Following that, a man. Humph! That’s Bill himself, no doubt.</p> - -<p>“Nest—h’m!—that’s Egyptian; the old Egyptian symbol denoting the -number of days in a journey, but with the Babylonian and Manchurian -moon month at the end. Probably meant a month’s journey, and didn’t -know the sign for it. Bill, my lad, you show intelligence above the -average layman, at least.</p> - -<p>“Now, what’s all this? Water sign, mountains, stopping place— Bill -descended to picture writing there, I see! That’s the mountain -across from my camp where I took Bill in and fed him—gave him my -best hiking boots, too, by Jove! My camp by the river— Bill, you -are ingenious!</p> - -<p>“Without a doubt you wish me to understand that within a month you -will be at my old camp by the river—counting on more food and more -boots, perhaps! H’m! I don’t just know about that.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style='width:80%'> - <img id="hieroglyphics" - src="images/hieroglyphics.png" - alt="hieroglyphics" - style='border:1px solid; - margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; width:100%;' /> -</div> - -<p>“Don’t see how you are going to make it. Handicap too heavy. Doubt -whether I myself could overcome the obstacles—leg irons, officers -on the watch, posses on the trail, three hundred miles to go— Bill, -old fellow, if you make it you’ll prove yourself a man worth -helping! You won’t get half the distance—but if you do, you may -have my next-best boots and welcome!”</p> - -<p>Abington turned the case over, held it closer to the light, frowned -and gave a faint whistle at what he saw. He had supposed that the -message had been repeated here as a precaution against his failure -to notice the barely discernible markings in the leather on the -other side.</p> - -<p>But as he peered sharply at the fine indentations his eyes -brightened with interest. For although the river and the -stopping-place symbols were repeated, and the string of tiny circles -which signified the number of days’ journeying, the plural sign was -there just below them. At the end of the journey, mountains—but -they were indicated by the conventional, premodified Manchurian -symbol and, close by, the sign of a mummy.</p> - -<p>“What the deuce!” breathed Abington, pulling black eyebrows -together. “He’s blundered there—maybe means he’ll leave my camp -only in custody. No, by Jove! That can’t be it, either.”</p> - -<p>For a long time he sat motionless except when he turned the -cigarette case for a renewed scrutiny of the other side. The message -that had seemed so simple presented an unexpected little twist of -mystery.</p> - -<p>Bill Jonathan, pursued by the chain of evil, meant to journey for -perhaps a month and arrive at John Abington’s camp in the mountains -that bordered the river. That much seemed fairly plain, and one -would logically expect no further information at present.</p> - -<p>But there was more to it, apparently. Bill had not sat in that -roadster idly scratching hieroglyphics on the cigarette case of an -archaeologist just to pass the time away. Meaning to escape in the -car, uncertain too of the number of minutes at his disposal, he must -have grudged every second of delay while he worked out his message.</p> - -<p>Abington permitted his cigarette to go out while he brooded over -those crude lines. His thoughts harked back to the time, four months -before, when Bill Jonathan had come limping into camp, crippled with -stone bruises from traveling the rough granite hills in thin-soled -shoes worn to tattered leather. He had been hungry, too, by the -manner in which he wolfed his first meal whenever he thought -Abington was not looking his way.</p> - -<p>He had not told his name, and Abington had taken the hint and asked -no questions. Bill had called himself a prospector, said he had an -outfit back in the hills and had come down to Abington’s camp to see -if he could rustle a pair of boots and a little tobacco. A likable -fellow, Abington had found him; one of those rare individuals who -can display an intelligent interest in the other fellow’s subject.</p> - -<p>Abington at that time had been searching out and recording with a -camera all the ancient rock carvings along the river. While Bill’s -feet were healing he had wanted to know all about the various -symbols and their meanings. He had told Abington of two or three -cañons where writings could be found, and he had discussed with -Abington the possibility of finding petrified human remains—</p> - -<p>“By Jove!” Abington ejaculated, straightening suddenly in his chair. -“I wonder if that is not what he means! That we’ll both journey to a -spot in the mountains where I can find my fossilized man!”</p> - -<p>The idea once implanted in his mind, Abington could not seem to get -rid of it. Without a doubt, that was the meaning Bill had meant to -convey; that he had found the fossil man which would mean more to -Abington than a gold mine—for such is the peculiar point of view -held by scientists of a certain school.</p> - -<p>“Told him that mummy symbol indicated a burial—remember we -discussed it. He recognized the sign from having seen one on a rock. -I told him it undoubtedly meant that some one had been buried there. -H’m! Nothing else he <em>could</em> mean. Wasn’t sitting in that car -drawing marks for fun. Couldn’t write a message. Afraid Park might -pick up the case, no doubt. Too bad—handicapped too heavily. Never -will make it.”</p> - -<p>Nevertheless Abington loitered for four days in Tonopah, though he -had no business to hold him there. He heard nothing of an escaped -convict being captured in that part of the country, so finally went -his way.</p> - -<p>He had meant to hire more men and carry his explorations over into -Utah, but the sporting instinct for once prevailed over scientific -zeal. He still believed that Bill would never make it—that the -“chain of evil” was too strong. But being an archaeologist, he had -learned the sublime lesson of a patient, plodding persistence that -simply ignores failure. Abington returned alone to a field already -pretty thoroughly covered, and rëestablished his old camp by the -river. There he sat himself down to wait, with a brooding patience -not unlike the eternal hills that hemmed him in.</p> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> -<h2 class='nobreak' id='chIII' title='III—On the Jump'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER III</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>ON THE JUMP</span> -</h2> - -<p>Into the firelight Bill Jonathan came walking one evening, barely -within the month he had given himself in the symbolic message. Face -drawn and sallow, eyes staring out from under his hat brim with a -glassy dullness born of hunger, fever and fatigue mingled, perhaps, -with that never-sleeping fear which dogs the soul of the hunted. But -none of this showed in his manner, nor in his greeting which gave -the arrival a casual note.</p> - -<p>“Hello, professor! Got my message, I see. Well, I had one merry heck -of a trip, but here I am.” He dropped down where he could lean -against Abington’s favorite camp boulder—lean there at ease or -crawl swiftly out of sight behind the broken ledge, Abington -observed with that negligent, flicking glance of his. Another glance -dropped briefly to Bill’s ankles, and Bill laughed wryly.</p> - -<p>“Didn’t think I meant to wear them things permanent, did you, -professor? Hell, I ain’t no Aztec princess, going around with -anklets on that’d sink a whale. No, I was up at the old Honey Boy -Mine, in the blacksmith shop, setting on a bench with one foot in a -vise, filing faster than a buzz saw when I heard you folks go past, -down in the gulch. At least, I s’pose it was you folks, because it -was a cinch nobody would pass you in the cañon, and I had it doped -out you’d roll down to where you could get water, and come chasing -me up. Hauled my nursemaid on into Tonopah, I’ll bet!”</p> - -<p>“I did that.” Abington smiled, tossing Bill his cigarette case -before opening a can of baked beans while the coffee heated. “I -really didn’t think you’d make it, though. Handicap too heavy.”</p> - -<p>Bill accepted the cigarette case, pausing to eye with prideful -interest the markings. He lighted a cigarette and relishfully -inhaled three gratified mouthfuls before he spoke.</p> - -<p>“If you mean them irons, I didn’t wear ’em long. Just till I could -get the bus up to the old Honey Boy. Wonder you didn’t spot the -place where I turned off—maybe you did. It was on your side the -road.” He saw Abington nod, and grinned appreciatively. “Well, it -rained some that night, and that helped dim the tracks. Nobody came -near the mine; not while I was there, anyhow.</p> - -<p>“Friend Park had a fair lot of grub in the back of the car, and I -rustled a little more at the mine. Waited till dark and beat it back -down the cañon and over to Bishop. Made Randsburg, drove the car -over a cliff into a brushy cañon just before I got there, walked in -with an old bed roll I’d fixed up at the Honey Boy, as good a -blanket stiff as the next one! Worked there a week and blew out -again, first pay day—hit it just right, as it happened.</p> - -<p>“Hoboed to San Berdoo, doubled back to Needles—hanging tight to my -blanket roll and my time check to show I’d worked not so long ago. -And I’ve been hoofing it up the river since then.”</p> - -<p>Abington nodded again and pulled the coffeepot off the coals, using -a crooked stick for the purpose. It may have occurred to him that -crooked sticks are sometimes more useful than straight ones, for he -gave Bill Jonathan an unhurried measuring look as he extended a cup -of black coffee.</p> - -<p>“That mummy sign, Bill. Did you mean by that you had discovered more -ancient writings, or did you by any chance refer to skeletal -remains?”</p> - -<p>Bill took a great swallow of coffee and set down the cup. His tired -eyes brightened in the fire glow. “Maybe you’d call ’em skeletons, -professor—I’d say they’re rock. All you want. Thought you’d like to -take a look at ’em. So when we met up with you on the way to Carson -I made up my mind I wouldn’t wait till I was turned loose. You might -be to hell an’ gone by that time, or some nosey Adam chaser might -run acrost ’em. I seen last spring how you’ve got your heart set on -finding the granddaddy of all men, or some such thing, and I’d kinda -hate to see anybody beat you to it. So I made my git-away in order -to show you where they’re at.”</p> - -<hr class='tb' /> - -<p style='margin-top:1em;'>Having thus explained the matter to his own satisfaction, Bill -forthwith began to empty the can of beans in a manner best pleasing -to himself.</p> - -<p>John Abington poked absently at the fire, gently rapping upon a -burning juniper branch until it broke under the blows, spurting -sparks as it fell into the coals.</p> - -<p>“Adam chasers, as you call it, are not so numerous in this country,” -he said softly. “Not nearly so numerous as—er—deputy sheriffs.”</p> - -<p>Bill Jonathan leaned sidewise, reached the coffeepot and refilled -his cup. “Yeah, I get you,” he said finally. “But this is wild -country we’re going into. I ain’t taking such an awful chance, now I -got this far. I was duckin’ sheriffs when I found these stone men. -I’ve got to go on duckin’ sheriffs anyway—that, or else let ’em -ketch me and put me in for five or ten years. It’s six one way and a -half dozen the other.</p> - -<p>“This is how I’ve got it doped out, professor. You and me throw in -together. I’ll show you Adam—or his wife’s folks, anyway—and you -furnish me with grub and tobacco so I don’t have to show up where I -can be nabbed. I’ll draw on you for supplies and keep along close -without trailing right with you. So you won’t get in bad if it’s -found out I’m in the hills.” He looked across the fire at Abington. -“How’s it strike you, professor?”</p> - -<p>Over and over Abington had considered this very point during his -month of waiting. It all depended on Bill himself, he had decided. -Some men are so constituted that preying upon society is second -nature to them. Others fall afoul of the law through no real -criminal intent. There is a vast difference between the two types, -Abington knew. It all depended on Bill.</p> - -<p>“I never did function as guardian angel to escaped convicts,” -Abington said with brutal directness. “Laws are better kept than -broken, as you will probably agree, and it ill becomes a loyal -citizen to help any man dodge the penalty for his misdeeds. On the -other hand, even lawbreakers may contribute something to the general -welfare of the world. Discovering the skeletal relics of a man of -the Cretaceous period may not materially help to liquidate the -national debt, but it would be a priceless contribution to the -scientific knowledge of the human race.”</p> - -<p>“Yeah, and I can go on and finish that argument, myself. I can’t do -no more damage to society while I’m herdin’ with the coyotes, and if -I can help you find what you’re lookin’ for, that’s better than -loafin’ around doing time in Carson. So you won’t be doing nothing -worse than taking a boarder off the hands of the State. That’s about -the way you doped it out, ain’t it, professor?”</p> - -<p>“Essentially the same, yes,” Abington admitted. “I’m glad you have -so thorough an understanding of the matter. I think if your offense -was not too great I could perhaps get you paroled and placed in my -charge, but that would take time and— They’ve just discovered the -skull of an ape man in Rhodesia, Bill! I’d give a good deal to be -able to show them a Cretaceous man found in America.”</p> - -<p>Bill leaned back with a sigh of repletion and lighted his second -cigarette. “Well, I dunno how Cretaceous they are, professor, but -they’re fossils all right enough. Stone, anyway, way back in a -cave—you have to crawl on your belly quite a ways, where I went in. -I guess maybe there’s another opening somewhere. I didn’t look for -it. I had pinon knots for torches, and I lit a fresh one soon as I -come into this chamber—or cave. And when the blaze showed them -stone skeletons— Say, professor, I backed right out the same way -I’d went in!”</p> - -<p>“How do you know they were fossilized? They may have been modern—no -more than a hundred years old! They may even have been frontiersmen -trapped in there while trying to escape from hostile Indians.” -Abington’s tone was crisp.</p> - -<p>“I went back,” Bill declared calmly. “Got over my scare and wanted -to see for sure whether them skeletons was twelve feet high like -they looked to be, or just plain man size. So I looked good, next -time in. There was four, and the biggest wasn’t over eight feet. And -they was solid stone, far as I could tell.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t suppose you could describe the geologic conditions—I shall -have to determine that, of course, when I arrive at the spot.”</p> - -<p>During five minutes Bill smoked and silently eyed the archaeologist, -who sat meditatively tapping another burned stick into coals.</p> - -<p>“One thing I better tell you, professor,” he ventured at last, -vaguely stirred by the rapt look in Abington’s dark eyes. “There’s a -lot more to it than just arriving ‘at the spot,’ as you say. When I -went into that cave, I was scared in. There’s something up in there -that got my goat. I beat it outa there—that’s how I got nabbed by -the law.</p> - -<p>“I can’t tell you what it is, professor. Some kinda animal. Makes -tracks like a mountain sheep—but it ain’t a sheep; or if it is— All -I can say is that us Adam chasers will have to keep our eyes -peeled.”</p> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> -<h2 class='nobreak' id='chIV' title='IV—The Footprint Clew'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER IV</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>THE FOOTPRINT CLEW</span> -</h2> - -<p>Abington stood absolutely motionless with his head drooped forward, -his narrowed eyes surveying with brief, darting glances his -devastated camp. The small brown tent, lying in a tattered heap with -slits crisscrossing one another in the balloon silk which was so -light to carry—and so costly—received a second scrutiny. The camp -supplies, which had been neatly piled just where he had unloaded -them from the two burros that carried his own outfit, were strewn -about in indescribable disorder, as if a drove of hogs had held -carnival there for an hour or so.</p> - -<p>Because of the view it gave of the fantastic, red-sandstone crags -across the valley, Abington had pitched his camp on a smooth hard -ledge a few feet above the level with a cliff at his back and a -spring of good water hidden away in a tiny cleft in the cañon at his -right. It was a cool, sightly spot, free from bothersome ant hills -or weedy growth that might harbor rattlesnakes or other venomous -creatures.</p> - -<p>True to his word, Bill Jonathan camped apart from Abington. In this -particular location he had chosen a cave half a mile up the -cañon—and he had immediately set about walling up the entrance so -that he must squeeze in between two rocks which he could move across -the aperture at night.</p> - -<p>“Getting close to the range of that gosh-awful thing, professor,” he -had explained. “Better hunt a hole yourself and crawl into -it—’specially at night. And you want to keep your eyes peeled, and -don’t go prowlin’ around without your gun or a knife or something.”</p> - -<p>Abington liked his little brown-silk tent, however, and he was not -particularly impressed by the gosh-awfulness of the thing which Bill -Jonathan could not even describe—he having failed to catch so much -as a glimpse of it, as he had been forced to admit under Abington’s -repeated questioning.</p> - -<p>Here was the ruin left by some animal, however, and Abington found -himself completely at a loss as he circled the camp, going slowly -and studying the wreckage foot by foot. On the ledge itself he did -not expect to see any tracks. He walked therefore to the edge of the -hard-pan and examined the softer gravel at the foot of the two-foot -slope.</p> - -<p>There, cleanly outlined in a finer streak of red gravelly sand, he -discovered the imprint of a pointed, cloven foot; a gigantic sheep, -by the track, or possibly an elk, though elk were not known in that -country.</p> - -<p>For some minutes he stood there looking for other tracks. When he -found one, he whistled under his breath. From the length of the -stride indicated by that second hoofprint he judged that this -particular animal must be considerably larger than a caribou. -“Gosh-awful” it certainly must be!</p> - -<p>Abington stared down the wash, for a moment tempted to follow the -tracks. But with night coming on and an empty stomach clamoring to -be filled, he hesitated. There was the wrecked camp to set to rights -and such supplies as had not been destroyed must be gathered -together and placed where this malicious-minded animal could not -reach them again.</p> - -<p>Moreover, the tracks might not be fresh, for the damage could have -been done at any time during the afternoon while he and Bill were -exploring a complex assortment of crooked ravines, tangled at the -head of the larger one where Bill had prepared to hole up in gloomy -security.</p> - -<p>Abington was thoughtfully regarding a sack of flour that had been -slashed lengthwise and dragged in wanton destructiveness half across -the ledge, when Bill Jonathan’s voice sounded behind him, swearing a -dismayed oath.</p> - -<p>“Looks like it’s been here a’ready!” Bill gasped, when Abington -turned and glanced at him.</p> - -<p>“Looks as though something has been here,” Abington agreed. “Very -unusual incident, in some of the details. Certain incongruities can -scarcely be accounted for until I have further investigated the -matter. I have had a herd of wild elephants stampede through camp, -and I know the work of every marauding animal from jungle tigers to -the wolverines of Canada. But I have never seen anything quite like -this.</p> - -<p>“For instance,” he went on, “the slits in that tent plainly started -from the peak and extended downward, with an upward thrust near the -bottom, leaving a triangular rent. Any horned animal that could rip -a tent like that invariably lowers the head and gores with an upward -toss. So does a hog. Certain indications would seem to point to a -wild hog—or a drove of them!—but I believe the longest slits in -the tent were accomplished while it was still standing.</p> - -<p>“You will observe,” he continued, “that the rents are spaced with a -regularity impossible to attain while the material lay bundled in a -heap on the ground. The cloth has not been chewed, therefore it -could not be the work of wild cattle. Moreover, that sack of salt -was not touched. Wouldn’t you suppose, Bill, that any herbivorous -animal would smell the salt and go after it first?”</p> - -<p>“Yeah, but it don’t ever touch salt, professor. Not as far as I -know. Did it leave any tracks?”</p> - -<p>“Down here in the sand are some enormous hoofprints resembling sheep -or elk tracks, Bill. From its stride the beast must be as large as a -camel.”</p> - -<p>“Yeah, and I’ve known it to leave mule tracks behind it!” Bill -declared glumly. “Now, maybe you’ll want to crawl into my cave, -professor!”</p> - -<p>“I may decide to let you store what supplies are left, but I myself -don’t fancy caves except for research work. By the way, did you -notice any eoliths in that cave of yours, Bill?”</p> - -<p>“I dunno. Killed a scorpion about four inches long and his tail -curled up. You ain’t afraid of bugs, are you, professor?”</p> - -<hr class='tb' /> - -<p style='margin-top:1em;'>Abington gave him a sharp glance, but Bill was innocent and looked -it.</p> - -<p>“It doesn’t matter now,” Abington said, “since I shall probably -spend a week or more exploring these ravines. There should be a good -many artifacts left in the caves hereabouts. The carvings indicate -that the ancient people lived here and I have an idea that their -occupancy of this section of the country extended over considerable -period of time. This old Cretaceous sandstone gives every—”</p> - -<p>“Yeah, and it’ll give ’em just the same to-morrow, don’t you think, -professor? I’m going to take what’s left of the flour and cache it -away in my cave, and that can of coffee. Looks to me like the thing -was scared off before it finished the job. All the times I’ve saw it -get in its work before now, it sure was thorough! You must ’ave -scared it—”</p> - -<p>“In that case I may be able to catch it.”</p> - -<p>Abington turned and strode again to where the tracks lay printed -deep in the packed sand. He stepped down off the ledge and followed -the hoofprints, scanning each one sharply as he came to it.</p> - -<p>“Hey! You can’t trail that thing, professor!” Bill called anxiously. -“I tried that—once when it was a sheep and another time when it was -a mule. Tracks take to the hills and quit.</p> - -<p>“Aw, gwan and find out for yourself, then!” he grumbled, when -Abington merely flung up his hand to show he heard and continued -along the wash. “Won’t be satisfied to take my word—never seen such -a bullheaded cuss. But it won’t be long, old boy, till you’ll be -tickled to death if you’re able to dodge it!”</p> - -<p>Dusk deepened. Bill hurriedly salvaged what supplies were not -utterly destroyed, looking frequently over his shoulder when his -work would not permit him to keep his back toward the cliff. It -seemed a long while before Abington returned.</p> - -<p>Bill’s uneasiness had reached the point where he threw back his head -to send a loud halloo booming out into the darkness; but at that -very moment Abington came stumbling up to the ledge, leaning heavily -on a dead mescal stalk while one foot dragged. Bill leaped forward -and pulled him up the slope.</p> - -<p>“Rock rolled down the hill and started a slide,” Abington explained -in a flat, tired tone. “Dodged most of the rubble, but one fragment -struck against my ankle. Temporarily paralyzed my foot. Be all right -in a short time, Bill.” He sat down, breathing rather heavily.</p> - -<p>“Who done it?” Bill knelt and tentatively felt the injured foot.</p> - -<p>“No one, so far as I know. I am not sure, of course, but my -impression is that the slide was purely accidental.”</p> - -<p>“See anything of your sheep?”</p> - -<p>“Too dark to detect any signs after it took to the rocks. Heard -something—up the hill. Couldn’t exactly locate the sound. Any -coffee, Bill?”</p> - -<p>Bill had been itching to get back to his cave and make coffee there, -but now he looked at Abington and hesitated. Neither Abington nor -any other man could laugh at Bill and call him a coward. There had -been a small pile of firewood; it was scattered around somewhere -among the débris. The coffeepot, he knew, had been flattened as if -an elephant had stepped on it; but he could find a can that would -serve.</p> - -<hr class='tb' /> - -<p style='margin-top:1em;'>He groped for the wood, found it and got a fire started. A cheerful -light pushed back the shadows, making them eerier than when all was -gloom. He set about supper of a sort, keeping his back to the ledge -with a persistence that might have amused Abington if he had not -been wholly occupied with the mystery that had impinged upon an -otherwise uneventful trip.</p> - -<p>“I can’t fathom it,” he said at last, speaking half to himself. “It -is not a mountain sheep, I’m certain of that. Those slits in the -tent and the salt sack ignored—those two details alone place the -depredations apart from the work of any such animal.”</p> - -<p>“Yeah, there ain’t no such animal!” Bill looked up to remark. “Now -you know why I wanted a gun, professor. You thought it was for -killing sheriffs, maybe, but you was wrong there. I told you there -was something up here we’d have to look out for. I asked you to get -me a gun, because I ain’t got much hopes of killin’ this thing by -throwin’ rocks at it. That’s why.”</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry, Bill, but I really couldn’t buy you a gun,” Abington -told him gravely. “And I don’t think you will need one. The beast -keeps himself out of sight, it seems. It isn’t likely to attack -either of us.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I’d about as soon be attacked as scared to death,” Bill -demurred. “That’s just it, professor. I wouldn’t give a cuss if I -could look the thing over, once. What I hate is coming in and -finding camp demolished and the grub all throwed out and nothing you -can fight back at. Well, here’s your coffee. It’s about all I could -find to cook, in the dark.”</p> - -<p>They drank the coffee in silence, even the self-contained Abington -pausing every minute or so to stare into the darkness, listening. It -was a nerve-trying pastime which netted them nothing in the way of -enlightenment.</p> - -<p>What it cost Bill to shoulder a load of more-or-less damaged -supplies and go off alone up the cañon, his way lighted only by the -stars, Abington could only guess. In justice to the peace officers -of the county he could not give the man a gun, and he sensed that -Bill was really afraid of the unknown marauder, and with good -reason, Abington was forced to admit.</p> - -<p>Bill had been hunted from camp to camp by the thing which he had -never seen. He had been robbed and his food supplies destroyed until -at last he had fled the place only to fall into the hands of the -watchful sheriff. Abington couldn’t blame Bill for his fears. All -the same, Abington did not want to place a gun in the hands of an -escaped prisoner. That, it seemed to him, would be going rather -strong, even in the interests of science.</p> - -<p>He was sitting with his back against the cliff with the dying fire -before him, rubbing his numbed ankle to which sensation was -returning with sharp stabs of pain, when Bill came up out of the -cañon mouth with his bundle still on his shoulders and his eyes -staring.</p> - -<p>“It’s been to the cave,” he announced in a suppressed tone. “Clawed -out the rocks I walled the opening up with and raised hell with my -stuff. Professor, how bad do you want them stone Adamses?”</p> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> -<h2 class='nobreak' id='chV' title='V—Galloping Burros'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER V</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>GALLOPING BURROS</span> -</h2> - -<p>Across the valley the moon peered over a jagged pinnacle, looking as -if broken teeth had bitten deep into its lower rim. That effect was -soon brushed away as the pale disk swung higher, and the blood-red -sandstone peaks stood fantastically revealed in the swimming -radiance. The valley straightway became enchanted ground wherein -fairy folk might dance on the smooth sand strips or play laughing -games of hide and seek among the strange pillars and jutting crags.</p> - -<p>Beside the dying fire Bill Jonathan dozed, head bent with now and -then an involuntary drop forward, whereupon he would rouse and -glance sharply to left and right—the habit of a man who knows -himself hunted, a man whose safety lies in unsleeping vigilance.</p> - -<p>“Lie down on the tent, Bill,” Abington advised him, after his third -startled awakening. “Lie down and make yourself comfortable. -To-morrow you can watch while I sleep.”</p> - -<p>“Aw, I can keep awake, professor. All that climbing around to-day -made me kinda tired, is all. If I know you’re asleep, I’ll keep my -eyes open wide enough.”</p> - -<p>“But I don’t want to sleep, Bill. This little mystery must be solved -before we go any farther with our chief business. Couldn’t sleep if -I wanted to.”</p> - -<p>“You’ll stay awake a darn long while, professor, if you wait to put -salt on the tail of the thing that haunts this valley,” Bill opined.</p> - -<p>Abington calmly knocked the dottle from his pipe and began to refill -it, ready for another long, meditative smoke. “For every problem in -the universe there is a correct answer,” he said quietly. “It is -only our ignorance that makes mysteries of things simple enough in -themselves. A peculiar arrangement of details has given this -‘gosh-awful’ animal of yours an air of mystery, but the explanation -is simple enough, I’ll guarantee.”</p> - -<p>“Yeah, but how are you going to find this explanation—that you -think is so darned simple?” Bill stifled a yawn.</p> - -<p>“Just as I find the meaning of the hieroglyphics; by studying the -symbols already familiar to me, and from them arriving at the -natural relation of the unknown characters. This thing left tracks, -and it managed to accomplish a certain amount of destruction in a -given time. To-morrow morning I’ll take a look at your cave, and the -answer to the puzzle will not be so hard to find as you imagine.”</p> - -<p>Bill mumbled a half-finished sentence and lay down on the torn tent, -and presently the rhythmic sound of snoring hushed the strident -chorus of stone crickets on the ledge.</p> - -<p>Until the moon had swum its purple sea and reached shore on the -western rim of the valley, Abington lounged beside the cliff, so -quiet that any observer might have thought him asleep. For a time -his pipe sent up a thin column of aromatic smoke, then went cold; -and after that only the moonlight shining on his wide-open eyes -betrayed the fact that Abington was very much awake.</p> - -<p>An owl hooted monotonously in the cañon at his right, probably near -the spring. A coyote yammered on the steep hillside across the cañon -mouth, and a little later Abington heard the frightened, squealing -cry of a rabbit caught unawares by that coyote or another.</p> - -<p>On a cliff just over his head, shadowed now as the moon slipped -behind the hill, the ancient people he was tracing had carved -intricate tribal records. These had endured far beyond the last -vague legend of those whose valor had thus been blazoned before -their little world, a world that had seemed so vast and -imperishable, no doubt, to heroes and historians alike.</p> - -<p>It seemed to him that here was a land well fitted to hold the full -story of these forgotten lives. Could he but find it, and read it -aright, might not his own name be blazoned before his own people—to -be forgotten perchance in ages to come, as these were forgotten now?</p> - -<hr class='tb' /> - -<p style='margin-top:1em;'>The cave that held fast the bones of these ancients lay somewhere in -the bewildering maze of cañons across the valley. Bill Jonathan -would recognize the spot, so he had declared whenever Abington -questioned him. A certain rock on the cañon’s northern rim, shaped -like the head of a huge rhinoceros with two tusks on his snout—Bill -was positive he could not miss it, once he got inside the cañon. The -opening to the cave was directly under the first tusklike rock -spire. A matter of ten miles perhaps, Bill had guessed as he stood -on the ledge and gazed across.</p> - -<p>Here on this side were caves and even with the hope of finding the -fossil skeletons Bill had described, Abington had wanted to explore -these before going on. He still wanted to do so, if he and Bill -could manage to hunt down the unknown pillager of camps, or at least -guard their supplies against further depredations. If the raid on -Bill’s cave had been as complete as on his own camp, he would be -compelled to postpone all research work while he plodded with the -burros to the nearest town for fresh supplies. Bill could not go, -that was certain.</p> - -<p>At daybreak Abington was planning drowsily to send Bill up the cañon -after the burros, load on what was left of the outfit and cross -immediately to the other side of the valley, where they would -endeavor to find the skeletons first of all and be sure of them -before he went out for supplies. He would then be able to take out -specimens to send on to his museum, thus saving a bothersome trip -later on.</p> - -<p>His hand reached out to shake Bill’s leg and rouse him to the day’s -work, when a great clattering sounded in the cañon mouth near by. -Bill needed no shaking to bring him to his feet. As the two -automatically faced toward the noise, there came the three burros in -a panicky gallop out of the cañon and into the open.</p> - -<p>In one great leap Bill left the ledge and ran yelling and flailing -his arms to head them off before they stampeded down the valley. The -leading burro, a staid, mouse-colored little beast, swerved from -him, wheeled toward the hills opposite, stumbled and fell in a heap. -The second kept straight on down the valley, the third burro at its -heels. Bill let them go while he ran to the fallen leader.</p> - -<p>Though it took but a minute to cover the short distance, the burro’s -eyes were already glazing when Bill arrived. As he stopped and bent -over it a shuddering convulsion seized its legs and immediately it -stiffened. It was dead.</p> - -<p>Bill stood dumfounded, eying it stupidly for a moment before he -turned to call Abington. But the shout died in his throat, for his -glance had fallen upon a fresh disaster. The two other burros were -down and kicking convulsively, just as the first had done. They were -dead before he could reach them.</p> - -<p>Abington was not in sight when Bill, walking heavily under the -burden of this new tragedy, returned to the ledge; but presently he -came limping out of the cañon and into camp.</p> - -<p>“I thought I could discover what had stampeded the burros,” Abington -said, coming up with an indefinable air of surprise that Bill should -be standing there passive with that blank look on his face. “Too -late, again. If it was the gosh-awful, he’d disappeared before I -could get up there. Did you head off the burros? I want to move camp -this morning.”</p> - -<p>“Yeah—but you’ll have to git along without ’em this morning. The -damn things is dead.”</p> - -<p>Abington looked at him, looked past him to where Bill pointed an -unsteady finger. He got off the ledge and limped over to the nearest -carcass, looked it over carefully, walked to the others and examined -them, and returned thoughtfully to camp.</p> - -<p>Bill had kindled a fire and was starting off to the spring with an -empty bucket when Abington stopped him.</p> - -<p>“Hey, come back here! Don’t use any water from that spring.”</p> - -<p>“Yeah? Where will I use water from, then?”</p> - -<p>“From a canteen. I filled two yesterday. The burros were at the -spring this morning and stampeded from there. I can’t be certain -yet, of course, but I think the water is poisoned.”</p> - -<p>Bill stared, his jaw sagging. Abington was looking out across the -valley, his eyes narrowed and blacker than Bill had ever seen them.</p> - -<p>“I may be wrong, Bill, but we can’t afford to take a chance. One -burro might suddenly pass out with heart failure, but when three of -them turn up their toes in the same way and at the same moment, the -coincidence will bear investigation, I think!”</p> - -<p>“How could that sheep thing poison a spring?” Bill’s tone implied -violent incredulity.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know. I’m merely stating what appears to be a fact. Three -burros drank at that spring and afterward stampeded out of the cañon -and dropped dead in the open. I’m assuming that the water in the -spring, or at least in the little pool below it, was poisoned. They -must have been scared away, else they would have died right there -near the spring. Yes, I think it will bear investigation!”</p> - -<p>“Yeah, but in the meantime we’ve got to have water,” Bill said -gloomily, shaking a canteen gently before he poured a little into -his makeshift coffeepot. “I don’t aim to stick around till my tongue -swells up, doing fancy thinkin’ about a poisoned spring. Suit -yourself, professor, but I’m going to hunt water, soon as we go -through the motions of eating.”</p> - -<p>“I suppose in time the spring will clear itself and run pure,” -Abington reassured him with a twitching of his bearded lips. “If we -were to stay here, we could divert the trickle from the rocks and -soon have another pool. But we could never be sure that it was not -poisoned again. No, Bill, we’ll have to get our belongings together -and move across the valley.”</p> - -<p>“A darn hard job,” muttered Bill, “packing everything on our backs.” -And he added: “That sheep thing can travel, too; don’t overlook that -fact, professor.”</p> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> -<h2 class='nobreak' id='chVI' title='VI—Ready for a Blow'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER VI</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>READY FOR A BLOW</span> -</h2> - -<p>The eastern rim of the valley stood crimson where the westering sun -struck it full, bringing into bold relief each cañon and crag, the -smallest fold and the smoothest boulder; as if a contour map had -been painstakingly modeled on a gigantic scale in red sealing wax, -or as if a world aflame had been paralyzed into utter silence.</p> - -<p>Toward that garish pile of shattered hills, Abington and Bill -Jonathan plodded with the low sun at their backs, which were -burdened heavily with as much of their camp supplies as they had -been able to retrieve and could carry.</p> - -<p>The start that morning had been delayed until nearly noon while they -searched vainly for some clew to the mystery that had in a few hours -held an orgy of wanton destructiveness in two camps and had poisoned -their water supply and killed three burros. Human malevolence had -been displayed in that last attack, Abington was convinced.</p> - -<p>Yet in spite of all his skill, all the careful attention to details -which his scientific training had made second nature, he had failed -to discover the slightest evidence of a human agency at work against -them. Not a sign, not a track, save those enormous sheep tracks -leaving the vicinity of the spring and going off up a narrow ravine -in great strides which made it hopeless to think of overtaking it; -for without water he did not dare attempt any prolonged search. Now, -with a half mile of red sand to plow through before they reached the -first bold hillside, their eyes clung perforce to the seamed, broken -rampart they were nearing.</p> - -<p>A dazzling light that flashed and was gone, then came again and -stood motionless for a space while one might count fifteen, showed -high up on a ridge as evenly serrated as a rooster’s comb, and quite -as red. Abington came to a full stop which he made a rest period by -slipping the heavy pack from his shoulders. Nothing loath, Bill did -likewise. The two sat down on the sand beside their bundles, mopping -perspiration from faces and necks.</p> - -<p>“Bill, when I get up and stand in front of you, look past me at the -sharp peak just south of the mountain—the first one on the ridge -straight before us. Tell me if you see anything that might be a -reflection of the sun—from a telescope, we’ll say, or more likely a -pair of field glasses. No, don’t look yet. Remember that with good -glasses a man could read the expression on your face, read your -lips, too, if he’s had any training.”</p> - -<p>At the first sentence Bill’s face had hardened. “You don’t have to -preach caution to a man that’s been on the dodge long as I have,” he -muttered bitterly, under cover of lighting a cigarette. “Shoot. What -d’you think—that it’s an officer, maybe?”</p> - -<p>“I’m not thinking past the field glasses that I believe are focused -on us,” Abington parried, rising and standing so that his back was -to the ridge while he held up his watch before Bill’s face. “He may -think I’m trying to hypnotize you, but it’s an excuse. Look right -past this watch, to a point between the second and third little -pinnacles on the ridge. See anything?”</p> - -<p>“Something moved, in the notch just below that pinnacle. I got it -against the sky for a minute. There ain’t any shine, though. Might -have been a sheep.”</p> - -<p>Abington put away his watch, stooped and shouldered his pack.</p> - -<p>Bill slipped his arms through the rope loops and wriggled his own -burden into place on his back as he got up. “Wouldn’t think they’d -be lookin’ for me away down here,” he said uneasily, after a few -rods of silent plodding. “Not unless you—” He sent an involuntary -glance toward his companion.</p> - -<p>“Unless I informed on you when I went after supplies, and arranged -for your capture after I had benefited by your information,” -Abington answered the look. “You don’t really think that, Bill.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know why I wouldn’t think it, if somebody’s planted up -there watching for us with glasses,” Bill retorted, not more than -half in earnest but yielding to the ugly mood born of nerve strain -and muscle weariness.</p> - -<p>“Of course, you can think any idiotic thing you choose,” Abington -returned, in that tolerant tone which he could summon when he wished -to bite into a man’s self-esteem. “Any other brilliant ideas on the -subject, explaining why, if I were contemplating treachery, I should -call your attention to that light on the ridge up there?”</p> - -<p>“Yeah, I might have one or two,” Bill growled. “I was a fool to -start across here in broad daylight. Now, if they come after me, I -ain’t even got a gun!”</p> - -<hr class='tb' /> - -<p style='margin-top:1em;'>Abington sent a quick, sidelong glance toward Bill’s face. That gun -question was becoming a touchy subject between them. “No, you -haven’t a gun. So you are not quite so liable to a few extra -years—or a chair in the gas house—if you are caught!”</p> - -<p>“Well, I ain’t caught yet!” Bill’s upper lip lifted away from his -teeth. “Not by a damn sight!”</p> - -<p>Abington gave him another sidelong glance. The snarl was not lost -upon him, though he made no reply. Like many another man who is -agreeable enough in ordinary circumstances, Bill Jonathan’s good -nature did not always stand up under hardship.</p> - -<p>That blustery impatience at the physical discomforts of a long -grilling walk was beginning to crop out in Bill, mostly in the form -of a surly ill temper and a grumbling against conditions which -neither could help. Abington had reached the point of gauging the -exact degree of surliness and to set up mental defenses against his -moods.</p> - -<p>Bill had taken the initiative in this quest and he was surely -receiving full value for his efforts. From a sporting admiration for -Bill’s daring, and a certain liking for his whimsical shrewdness, -Abington was consciously beginning to chafe at the man’s crabbed -temper; he felt a growing distrust, too, which was yet formless and -only vaguely realized.</p> - -<p>He caught himself wishing now that he had asked Park what crime -stood against Bill Jonathan. No use asking Bill; he would say what -he pleased and the other could believe it or not.</p> - -<p>“If you’ve got any wild idea of finding out from me where them stone -skeletons is, and then turning me over to the sheriff, you better -revise the notion, professor,” Bill said abruptly, having brooded -over it for five minutes. “I’m nobody’s fool.”</p> - -<p>“Then why talk like one?” Exhaustion was beginning to draw a white -line beside Abington’s nostrils and his bruised ankle ached cruelly. -He began to feel that he’d had enough of Bill’s grousing. “You’ve -nothing to kick about, so shut up. I’m doing packer’s work rather -than have men along who might go out and betray you.”</p> - -<p>“Yeah. You knew mighty well I wouldn’t stir a foot if you brought in -a bunch of mouthy roughnecks,” Bill growled back. “How do I know -what you framed in town?”</p> - -<p>Abington slipped his pack off his shoulders and swung toward Bill -with a menacing glitter in his eyes. “That’s going a bit strong, -even for you,” he said sharply. “If you’ve any reason for -saying that, out with it! If not, I’ll thank you to keep such -thoughts behind your teeth. You’re getting quite as much as you are -giving, Bill Jonathan—and by that I mean to include loyalty and -fair play.</p> - -<p>“For all I know,” Abington went on, “you invented the story of -fossilized human remains as a temptation that would insure my -protection and the food you’d need in case you made your escape from -Park. Do you suppose I was so blind I did not see that possibility -from the start? A fossilized man, as you knew, was bait I’d be -pretty sure to swallow. Well, I did swallow it—but not with my eyes -shut, I assure you. Please give me credit for that much -intelligence.</p> - -<p>“I took you at your word,” he continued, “and I have played the game -straight. I shall continue to play it square, until I find that you -have lied to me.”</p> - -<hr class='tb' /> - -<p style='margin-top:1em;'>He waited, balanced, ready for the blow he expected. Instead, he saw -the expression in Bill’s eyes change to a grudging mollification, as -if the very abusiveness of the attack reassured him.</p> - -<p>“I never said anything to put you on your ear,” Bill hedged -morosely, after an uncomfortable pause. “What are you razzing me -for? I said I wouldn’t be caught and I won’t be. That goes, -professor.”</p> - -<p>“Very well, let’s have no more talk about it.” Abington lifted his -pack to his galled shoulders and started on, leaving Bill to his own -devices; wherefore Bill presently overtook him and walked alongside.</p> - -<p>The truce held while the clouds flamed with the sunset, a barbaric -pageant that could not rival the sanguine magnificence of that wild -ensemble of towering hills slashed with deep gorges whose openings -were frequently hidden away behind bold, jutting pinnacles.</p> - -<p>“Looks like the devil was practicing on these hills, trying to make -a world of his own with nothing but fire for building material,” -Bill observed at last, wanting to appear friendly and awed in spite -of himself before the spectacle. “When God came along and told him -to knock off, looks like the devil just kicked it all to thunder and -dragged his feet through the mess a few times and walked off and -left it like that. Don’t you think so, professor?”</p> - -<p>“I’ve heard theories advanced that were not half so plausible,” -Abington replied, his voice once more calm and slightly ironic, as -if he still doubted Bill’s sincerity. “A man could spend a lifetime -in this country without exhausting its archaeological -possibilities.”</p> - -<p>“Yeah—or without getting caught,” Bill added, speaking as had the -other of the thing nearest his own heart.</p> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> -<h2 class='nobreak' id='chVII' title='VII—Into the Blackness'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER VII</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>INTO THE BLACKNESS</span> -</h2> - -<p>Bill and Abington came to and entered a narrow, straight-walled -gorge. It had a loose, sandy bottom and every indication that ages -before it had been a watercourse with the floods of glacial rainfall -sluicing down to the valley. Presently Bill, plowing laboriously -ahead to a certain spring he remembered in a cave up this ravine, -gave a grunt and stopped short.</p> - -<p>In the peculiar, amethystine veil of the afterglow which lay upon -the hills like a cunning stage effect of, colored lights, he pointed -a finger stiffly to a certain mark in the sand. Abington limped -forward and joined him.</p> - -<p>“I see the gosh-awful is here ahead of us,” he said listlessly. -“Well, it will be obliged to wreck us personally this time, Bill, -since all our worldly goods are literally on our backs. We may get a -sight of it at last.”</p> - -<p>“That all you care?” Bill stared at him. “Maybe I’d feel that way -about it, too, if I had a gun to defend myself with. You’re making a -big mistake, professor. You’ll see it before you’re through.”</p> - -<p>“Possibly.” Abington’s tone was skeptical. “How far is it to the -spring?”</p> - -<p>Bill did not reply. He was still staring at the strange tracks that -were too large for any sheep one could imagine, yet not shaped like -cattle tracks, nor much resembling the elk they had discussed last -night. Blurred though they were in the fine sand, they were yet -easily distinguishable to being the same hoof prints they had seen -across the valley.</p> - -<p>The tracks did not look very fresh, and after a brief study of them -Abington took the lead, perhaps because he was armed and Bill was -not.</p> - -<p>Presently Abington stopped and pointed to a cleft in the rocks. -“Whatever it is, it turned out of the gorge and went up there,” he -said. “Pretty good climbing, even for a sheep.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll go ahead and show you the spring,” Bill volunteered and -Abington chuckled to himself.</p> - -<p>Bill looked back at him with sullen eyes. “All right for you, -professor—with two guns handy,” he said resentfully. “Put you in -here with just your bare hands and maybe you wouldn’t be so damn -nervy, yourself.”</p> - -<p>“I’d probably wait until I saw some danger before I became alarmed.”</p> - -<p>Bill muttered something under his breath, and stepped out more -briskly. Both were thirsty, but since they had left the western side -of the valley with one canteen nearly full, the need of water had -not yet become acute. It was the tramp across the valley with packs -too heavy for them that had told on the tempers of the two men—with -Abington’s bruised foot and Bill’s nervous dread of pursuit for good -measure.</p> - -<p>The spring proved to be well protected, in a water-worn cave that -seemed to offer excellent shelter. A tangle of nondescript oak -bushes grew near the entrance and drew moisture from the overflow -which, though slight, was yet sufficient for the scant vegetation.</p> - -<p>The cave itself was not large, with a fine sandy floor and a lofty -arched roof of irregular blocks of the red sandstone which was the -regular formation of these hills. A lime dyke broke through here and -there in sharp peaks and ridges in a fairly continuous outcropping -roughly pointing toward the river.</p> - -<p>Abington slipped off his pack, drank from the spring and sat down -against the wall of the cave to unlace his boot from his lame foot.</p> - -<p>Bill began gathering dry twigs and branches and set about making -coffee and frying a little bacon. “We oughta git a sheep or -something,” he grumbled, breaking a long moody silence. “This time -of year there’s generally sheep running in through here.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll take a hunt, when my foot has had a rest. We can manage for a -day or two,” Abington replied without looking up.</p> - -<p>“Say, you’d be in a hell of a fix if you broke your leg,” Bill -sneered. “You’d starve to death before you’d trust me with a gun, -wouldn’t you?”</p> - -<p>“There’s meat for to-night. To-morrow will take care of itself.”</p> - -<p>“Yeah, maybe it will—and it’ll leave us to do the same,” Bill -retorted. “What the heck are you scared of, professor?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing at all. Not even your gosh-awful. Will you fill that corn -can with water for me, Bill? I’ll try a cold compress on the foot.”</p> - -<p>Bill did as he was requested and a sight of the discolored foot -stirred him to sympathy. Abington, he suddenly saw, must have -suffered cruelly all day, though he hadn’t said anything about it. -Bill remembered too that Abington had remained awake all last night -while he himself had slept. But it was not Bill’s way to apologize.</p> - -<p>“That’s a hell of a looking foot!” he growled. “Hot water beats -cold. After supper I’ll heat a can of water—”</p> - -<p>“After supper I’m going to sleep,” Abington rebuffed him. “Cold -water will do.”</p> - -<p>“Have it your way—it’s your foot,” snapped Bill, and relapsed into -his morose silence.</p> - -<hr class='tb' /> - -<p style='margin-top:1em;'>It was not an agreeable supper, and neither spoke while they drank -coffee and ate bacon and fried corn from the same frying pan.</p> - -<p>Bill was tired and full of uneasy fears and he bitterly resented -Abington’s action in regard to the guns. He was accustomed to the -feel of a gun’s weight against his hip and the thought of facing -trouble without a weapon gave him an uncomfortable feeling of -helplessness. Add mystery to the hazard, and Bill reacted with a -dread not far removed from panic.</p> - -<p>Abington ate and drank his share, then forced himself to explore the -cave with a lamp. He chose for himself a niche in one side of the -wall near the entrance, where he would hear any intruder and would -still be fairly well concealed.</p> - -<p>At least, that was his idea when he settled himself in the recess. -As a matter of fact not even his aching foot could keep him awake. -He dropped almost at once into the deep dreamless sleep of -exhaustion. When he opened his eyes it was to see the sunlight -slanting into the cave—a circumstance which at first convinced him -that it must be nearly noon, since the cave opening faced the south -and the cañon walls were high.</p> - -<p>After a brief space of mental fogginess, however, his mind snapped -into alertness. He remembered that he had stooped to enter the -cavern; the sunlight bathed the high-arched roof just over his head -and brought into relief certain symbols—left there by the ancients, -he had no doubt.</p> - -<p>For a time he lay looking up at the roof, deciphering each crude -character, his eyes tracing the lines which even in that sheltered -place showed the erosion of many centuries. Some of the lines were -dimmed; none retained the sharp outlines left by the engravers.</p> - -<p>Now he knew that the cave had a high opening through which the sun -was shining; a common occurrence in that old formation that had -suffered the buffetings of wind and water for millions of years, and -moreover had been rocked and twisted by many a primeval earthquake. -He thought no more of the opening, but insensibly slipped under the -spell of those ancient records, his imagination thrilling to each -new sign as it caught his eye.</p> - -<p>The story of a journey was depicted there, a journey of death, he -judged from certain priestly emblems and the sign of burial. Perhaps -they had attempted to depict the journey of the soul, though he -could only guess at that, his speculations revolving around a figure -of a dog or wolf, very similar to the jackal which in the belief of -ancient Egypt was supposed to carry souls across the desert to -paradise. He wondered, searching farther along the roof for further -inscriptions.</p> - -<p>Like an old rangeman riding up to a herd of strange cattle, -unconsciously reading the brands and mentally identifying the -owners, Abington could not seem to pull his mind away from that -roof. Beyond the sunlit patch the carvings extended into obscurity -so deep that, stare as he would, he could not distinguish the lines.</p> - -<p>A sense of bafflement nagged at him. Just as the cattleman will -follow a range animal for half a mile, seeking the vague -satisfaction of seeing what brand had been burned into its hide, -Abington sat up and put on his boots, and picked up the can of -carbide and miner’s lamp which he used in preference to candles when -exploring dark caverns. He started climbing up a tilted shelf of -rock that offered a precarious footing for a man tall enough to -bridge certain places where the shelf had dropped completely away -and left gaps in what may once have been a steep narrow trail.</p> - -<p>From the floor of the cave it looked impossible for anything save a -fly or a lizard to climb to the roof. When he started, Abington had -not expected to do more than reach a point from where he could view -the shadowed writing at closer range. He kept going, however, while -the lame foot protested with twinges of pain that gradually ceased -as the muscles limbered. Presently he stood on a low irregular -balcony, the writings just over his head.</p> - -<p>This was something he had not suspected even while lying on his back -studying the roof. He made his way along the ledge, forced to stoop -so that he was soon walking like a gorilla with his hands sometimes -touching the balcony floor. He became suddenly aware of an odd -variation in the rough sandstone. The sharp, granular formation was -worn down to a dull smoothness in the center of the ledge where he -walked. It was a pathway polished by many shuffling feet—nothing -else.</p> - -<p>He turned a corner and peered into blackness; an ancient water -channel was there, no doubt. Abington lighted a match, saw that the -hieroglyphics continued along the wall. Waiting only long enough to -light the carbide lamp, he set off along the narrow passage, pausing -now and then to study the inscriptions as he went.</p> - -<p>Broad chambers receded into blackness beyond the white light of his -lamp and these he hastily explored before going on. Labyrinthine -passageways were revealed as he turned the light this way and that, -each opening inscribed with strange symbols carved in the rock at -the sides.</p> - -<p>“A gold mine of records!” Abington exclaimed to himself in the -whisper that was his habit when alone. “The ancient people who lived -here seem to have had a Scribblers’ Club of very active members! An -ancient catacomb, or I’m mistaken. That, or else these symbols were -carved with the express purpose of misleading one. H’m! An attempt -to confuse the devil and thwart him in his search for the souls of -the dead! Now here’s a pretty problem for an archaeologist. Let’s see -if I am smarter than the devil!”</p> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> -<h2 class='nobreak' id='chVIII' title='VIII—The Great Chain of Evil'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER VIII</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>THE GREAT CHAIN OF EVIL</span> -</h2> - -<p>Ordinarily John Abington thought fairly well of himself and he felt -certain that these misleading characters could not prevent him from -finding the way to the actual burial place. For one thing, he -discovered that many of the passages—a miner would have called them -drifts—had been hacked out by hand, with stone hammers and wedges. -How long and arduous a task that had been, he could only conjecture.</p> - -<p>In several of the drifts he found implements to prove his theory. -After a glance or two that identified them with the early people he -had been tracing, he went on and left the implements lying there for -the present, knowing that he could return at any time and get them -if he wished to do so.</p> - -<p>It cost him several fruitless trips down long, winding ways that -finally ended in blank walls, before he learned to mistrust the -man-made passageways, which had evidently been cunningly constructed -to deceive the devil himself—and any other unwelcome intruder.</p> - -<p>He began to study more carefully the carvings placed at the openings -of these zigzag passages, but after a while he was forced to admit -to himself that he could make nothing of them. So far as he could -determine with a cursory examination they all looked much alike, -though he knew there must be some secret differentiation. He could -only avoid such corridors as seemed to him the work of human hands, -and go on.</p> - -<p>Going on was not a simple thing, however. Many times he was forced -to crawl on hands and knees along an old water channel with fine red -sand packed hard and smooth, and at such times he caught himself -looking for human footprints. That he found nothing of the kind in -any of the old water channels seemed to him a proof that the ancient -ones had traversed these black passages before the time of copious -rainfall, else the sand would not have been so smooth and untrodden.</p> - -<p>Frequently he was forced to climb up through crevices where the -rocks were worn glossy—always, wherever rock lay underfoot, the -same smoothness prevailed —until it seemed to him that he must soon -emerge upon the crest of the high-turreted ridge which formed that -wall of the cañon.</p> - -<p>After a time that to Abington had been timeless, so absorbed was he -in the fascinating quest of a final destination which these signs -seemed to promise, he was recalled to practical things by the -dimming of his carbide lamp. He held it close to his ear and shook -it, but heard no sloshing sound in the small water compartment above -the carbide.</p> - -<hr class='tb' /> - -<p style='margin-top:1em;'>He moved the tiny lever that permitted the water to leak drop by -drop over the lumps of carbide to form the acetylene gas which -burned with a clear white light until water or carbide—or -both—were exhausted and the gas ceased to form, but the flame still -burned feebly and threatened to go out altogether.</p> - -<p>Abington glanced at his watch and gave a low whistle. No wonder the -lamp was going out! His watch said that the hour was eleven -thirty-five, though he would have sworn it was crazy if the lamp had -not begun to fail.</p> - -<p>He must have been prowling in there for three or four hours. That -was as long as the lamp would burn with one filling of water. The -previous evening he had wanted to make sure of a steady light in -case they were disturbed during the night and he had put in fresh -carbide and filled the small tank with water just before going to -bed.</p> - -<p>“Damned idiot! Brought the carbide can along, and no extra water!” -he anathematized his carelessness.</p> - -<p>After all, he was not so culpable, however, for he had intended to -use the lamp for only a few minutes, to study the carvings on the -cave roof. The can of carbide, lying beside the lamp, had gone into -his pocket from force of habit, a good habit, too. If only he had -slipped the quart canteen over his shoulder! But Abington’s work had -taught him to manage comfortably with very little water and who -would burden himself with a canteen when he was merely going to -climb fifteen or twenty feet?</p> - -<p>He shut off the lamp entirely, since it was folly to waste the flame -while he sat there thinking over the unpleasant predicament in which -his scientific zeal had led him. That little cat claw of light might -serve to help him over a bad place, he reflected. As he sat there, -he could recall several places which he would not care to negotiate -in the dark. Furthermore, there had been trickles of water in some -of the passages and one cavern held a pool.</p> - -<p>It occurred to him that Bill would probably be worried. It was the -first time he had thought of Bill since he started this strange -underground journey. He remembered now that he had not seen Bill in -the cave when he left it that morning. “He’ll think the gosh-awful -got me in the night!” Abington grinned to himself.</p> - -<p>Abington hated to go back without having discovered the secret of -these writings, but common sense told him that the thorough -exploration of this place was likely to take some little time. The -problem now was to find his way back to the cave. He had little -doubt that he could retrace his steps, though he realized that it -would take some time, feeling his way along in the dark, as he would -be compelled to do unless he found water.</p> - -<p>He stood up, stooping under the low roof, and stared unseeingly into -the blackness whence he had come, trying to recall the nearest point -where he could find water. It was some little distance back, he -knew. He had been climbing considerably in the last half hour or -more and the walls were dry.</p> - -<p>Well, he would have to help out with matches until he found water -enough to fill his lamp. An inveterate smoker, he had a fair supply -of matches; and now he lighted one and tucked it under the little -lamp switch, so that he could have the benefit of the blaze down the -full length of the wood.</p> - -<p>That first match having helped him down a rough channel where the -boulders were trickily piled, he felt his way along the wall as far -as he dared go before lighting another. Walking in alternate -darkness and light, he made his way for some distance.</p> - -<p>Inevitably the time arrived when he paused, hesitating between a -left-hand turn and a right, with a black hole directly in front of -him. It cost Abington two matches to decide that he knew none of -these passages, that he had not come this way at all.</p> - -<p>He was about to retrace his steps to a point where he was sure of -the landmarks when, far away, he heard the faint drip, drip, drip of -water falling on rock. At first, standing there in black silence -save for the intermittent tinkling, he could not tell where the -sound came from.</p> - -<p>By walking a few feet down each passage, however, he eliminated -first the left passage and then the right, and so went straight -ahead down a gentle incline with roof so high that a match flame -failed to reveal it, and so narrow that his shoulders brushed the -walls on either side as he walked. He judged it to be a natural -fissure running through the hill, an old watercourse; the ridge -seemed honeycombed with them.</p> - -<p>That particular match having burned itself out, Abington walked on -in darkness, frankly relieved at the near prospect of water. He was -willing now to admit to himself that he was very thirsty, and that -the hunger gnawing at his stomach could be easier borne if he had a -drink.</p> - -<p>It would be a relief, too, to have a decent light once more and he -promised himself grimly that this time he would not loiter along, -studying hieroglyphics as he went. They could wait until he came in -again prepared to explore the place thoroughly and chalk the -different turnings so there could be no blundering in the future. -So, thinking of future precautions, he stepped out over the lip of a -small precipice and fell headlong into water.</p> - -<p>He came up spluttering sentences which might have surprised Bill, -who had found him always controlled in his speech. Abington fumbled -for the edge of the pool, found it and hung on with one hand while -he explored with the other for room to lift himself out on the rock. -Grimly he clung to the lamp, which was doubly vital to him now, and -when he had made shift to crawl out he turned and sat with his legs -dangling in water to his knees while he prepared to fill his lamp.</p> - -<p>“Well, I wanted water,” he said with a chuckle, when his first -startled rage had passed and he was smoothing the water out of his -wet beard. “Sooner or later we do get what we want, I’ve noticed, -even though the manner of getting is often unexpected.” With the lamp -cap opened, he leaned and dipped the lamp in the water, feeling for -the depth.</p> - -<hr class='tb' /> - -<p style='margin-top:1em;'>Abington’s nerves were scarcely more susceptible to emotion than -wires, but the Stygian blackness and the silence broken only by that -tinkling drip, drip, drip, began to press rather heavily upon his -consciousness. In spite of himself his fingers shook and fumbled the -simple mechanism which provided for lighting the lamp with a spark -when matches were not available—as his emphatically were not, after -their involuntary bath.</p> - -<p>He whirred the little wheel again and again before he succeeded in -striking a spark that would ignite the gas, and exhaled a long -breath of gratitude when the slender white flame suddenly sprang -into life. Solicitously he coaxed it into a brighter radiance and -turned its full beam upward, looking for the spot where he had -walked over the edge of the fissure. When he found it, his mouth -sagged open.</p> - -<p>“Call this hole a teapot, and I’d say I fell down the spout,” he -grunted. “A pretty problem—getting out again!”</p> - -<p>In truth the problem was not pretty, but instead was as ugly a -situation as any in which John Abington had ever found himself. The -place was not unlike a huge teapot with bulging sides and the -fissure for a spout. How deep the water was in the pool, he could -only guess; considerably over six feet, he knew, because he had -taken a dive of about fifteen feet and he did not remember that he -touched bottom at all. As to the diameter of the pool, that too was -a matter of conjecture, since the light did not show the farther -rim.</p> - -<p>He leaned over, dropped a wet match into the water and watched it, -edging along the rim of the pool as the match floated gently away -from the side where he had fallen in.</p> - -<p>Abington’s eyes brightened. “Thought there was a current,” he said -with a nod of confirmation. “Some outlet, of course. Some inlet, as -well. This pool never filled drop by drop.”</p> - -<p>Carefully guarding his lamp, he worked his way along, following the -match. He saw it hesitate, poise and sway like something grown -suddenly fearful, then up-end and disappear under water as if -invisible fingers had reached up and seized it. Abington leaned far -over, flung another match into the water and saw it disappear as the -first had done.</p> - -<p>He dropped his hand into the water, let the fingers dangle -passively, and felt the nagging pull of the undertow. The hope of -leaving the cavern by following the outlet of the pool died before -it had gained more than a flutter of life. For the water flowed out -by a subterranean channel which no man could follow.</p> - -<p>Abington continued around the pool, turning the lamp this way and -that upon water and walls. The place was not unlike a huge cistern, -roughly round and slowly drying up, judging from certain marks on -the rock rim which in places sloped steeply toward the water. -Presently he discovered the inlet, a small stream running down -through a crack in the wall. There was no hope Whatever of getting -out that way. It was here that the tinkly drip fell into the pool -from a finger of rock thrust out of the fissure.</p> - -<p>Even in his urgent need of finding his way back to the surface, his -scientific mind ruled Abington, for he caught himself turning the -lamp rays back for a second look at hieroglyphics carved high up.</p> - -<p>“What the deuce!” he muttered. “That can mean nothing but evil—much -evil—and the death of many. Aztec and Egyptian—not burial but -death, and an evil death at that. Death to many—repeated over -there. Well, the carvers were here, that’s certain. Couldn’t have -come in as I came. H’m—”</p> - -<p>He went on, stepping across the fissure where the water flowed in, -and keeping to the dank rim which widened as he proceeded. Although -the walls rose roughly perpendicular with here an outward bulge, -there a falling back to a steep incline, there was visible no -passage nor even a split, save where the water came sliding down the -fissure that was no more than a seam. All along the wall, high up -wherever a smooth surface offered, there were the carvings, with -little variation in their sinister portent, the great chain of evil, -and the death of many.</p> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> -<h2 class='nobreak' id='chIX' title='IX—A Jump Into Space'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER IX</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>A JUMP INTO SPACE</span> -</h2> - -<p>Twice Abington circled the pool, pausing often to scan the carvings -and to look up at the place where he had made his unexpected -entrance. A real jump-off, that; more than twice the height of a -tall man, and no possibility of climbing back unless one had a rope. -The water had undoubtedly saved him a nasty fall.</p> - -<p>As a means of escape, Abington gave it up and turned his attention -to the places where the walls slanted up into blackness. He was -standing thoughtfully considering his next move—a matter that would -bear thought!—when he was startled by an explosive report, muffled -by distance, but nevertheless unmistakably a gunshot.</p> - -<p>Something approaching a spasm of rage at his helplessness shook -Abington and passed, leaving him again calculating and outwardly -calm. The sound could not have come down the fissure from which he -had fallen. He had come too far along a straight passage before he -reached the three forks, for an outside noise to penetrate to him -there.</p> - -<p>The sound might have come down the narrow inlet to the pool, but -Abington dismissed that possibility, probably because it was of no -use to him, since he could not very well worm his way through an -eight-inch crevice.</p> - -<p>There must be some opening in the roof. If not, then one good -archaeologist was likely to be counted a martyr to science and -finally forgotten—his own bones eventually becoming mere fossilized -relics.</p> - -<p>“Cheerful prospect, by Jove!” he grunted as he turned his back on -the inlet and began to examine the walls with the speculative eye of -a steeple jack. Now that he was fairly sure that the surface was -near, Abington did find a place where it looked possible for an -athlete to climb up, at least as far as the light illumined the -walls.</p> - -<p>He was resolved that there must be no more carelessness. Before he -left the pool he took the precaution of emptying the carbide lumps -from the can into his handkerchief, and filling the can with water. -The tight-fitting top served to keep the water from leaking into his -pocket, though he stowed the carbide in another for safety’s sake. -He kept out but one lump, which he put into the lamp, leaving -himself in the dark for a minute or two.</p> - -<p>With the lamp dry and warm the tiny flint wheel sparked at the first -attempt and the white tongue of flame shot out in a friendly fashion -that brought the ghost of a smile to Abington’s lips. Even then he -waited long enough to refill the lamp with water before rising to -begin the hazardous climb—which, after all, might net him nothing, -unless it were a broken bone or two if he lost his footing and fell -again.</p> - -<p>Abington’s work had given him the sureness of a mountain goat. He -took off his necktie, tied it like a bandeau around his head, hooked -the lamp securely in its fabric and began to climb, resolutely -pushing far from him the thought of failure.</p> - -<p>How far he went, he did not know. All he was certain of was the -impossibility of going back. There were times when he hung by a -slender foothold and risked his neck while he rested his hands. -There were other times when he was almost ready to give it up, -almost but never wholly beaten.</p> - -<p>“By Jove, this is a high mountain!” he gasped once when, having -found a fairly comfortable perch on a knob of rock the size of a -barrel, he very gingerly removed the lamp from his forehead and took -a more comprehensive survey of his immediate surroundings and the -wall above him. “I’ll swear I’ve climbed ten miles!” This was a very -unscientific assertion to make. He capped it at once by another. -“Bet I’ve passed a dozen lateral fissures on the way up.”</p> - -<hr class='tb' /> - -<p style='margin-top:1em;'>Having relieved the tension somewhat by that remark, he slowly -turned himself about and illumined with white light an arched -opening in the wall that half faced him around the curve of the -cavern. “I’ll be damned!” breathed John Abington but what he really -meant was: “Thank God!”</p> - -<p>The six feet of sheer wall which stood between his perch and the -mouth of the passageway balked him for a time, until he saw that the -rock immediately above the opening broke smoothly for several feet, -even with the face of the wall. The rock floor of the tunnel -extended outward over the black abyss from which he had just -climbed; it was like a pursed lip thrust out from an open mouth, he -thought.</p> - -<p>Upon that narrow platform he fixed his gaze, shrewdly measuring the -width of the extension. He would have to climb above the opening and -drop down to the out-thrust lip, trusting to good fortune to keep -his balance and not pitch headlong into the cavern.</p> - -<p>For a long moment he stood face to face with this fresh ordeal, the -lamplight sliding back and forth, halting to contemplate a feasible -niche for his feet, stealing upward to find some splinter or seam -where the fingers could clutch.</p> - -<p>Foot by foot he planned it, while he gathered his last reserve of -strength for this supreme effort. Once he started, there could be no -going back. He must work above the smooth stretch, where, at some -time in the past, a huge fragment of wall had fallen away, and then -edge sidewise until he was directly over the lip of the tunnel.</p> - -<p>After that he must let go all holds and drop. If he landed on the -lip and stayed there, he would at least have a chance. If not—the -evil death of a certainty would be his; for even if he landed -uninjured in the pool he would never be able to repeat that terrific -climb. He knew that he would not even attempt it.</p> - -<p>Doggedly, with that persistence which characterized the man, -Abington began the ascent. He reached the exact point which he had -planned to reach, drew one long breath in the full knowledge that it -might be his last—and dropped. The impact of solid rock upon his -boot soles jarred him as he flung himself forward and fell face -downward on the floor of the passage.</p> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> -<h2 class='nobreak' id='chX' title='X—Tracks in the Dust'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER X</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>TRACKS IN THE DUST</span> -</h2> - -<p>When Abington came to himself he was in darkness, the lamp having -fallen on its side and gone out. Whether he had fainted, slept or -merely lost consciousness for a moment he could not tell, nor did he -ponder it much. The fact that his toes hung over the edge set him -crawling forward on his hands and knees, obeying the primal instinct -of self-preservation.</p> - -<p>He wanted no more of that particular abysm. Until he had put several -yards between himself and what seemed to him now a black, bottomless -void, he did not think of the lamp.</p> - -<p>When he finally forced himself to stop and light it he discovered -that he was in a fairly level passage, the walls covered with -carvings wherein the same chain of evil predominated. These -hieroglyphics won only a cursory glance, however, as he got -painfully upon his feet and started forward, steadying himself -against the wall as he went.</p> - -<p>A cool breath of air in his face was his first intimation that he -was nearing the outdoor world. In spite of a stiffness in his joints -and muscles he found himself moving almost at a run and the -consciousness of his nervous haste brought a faint grin of amusement -to his face. John Abington was more anxious to see daylight than he -ever had been in his life—and the first man to laugh over the -experience would be John Abington himself.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless he did not slacken his pace until he arrived at a sharp -turning where a gray light dimmed the white flame of his lamp.</p> - -<p>He stopped before a crack twice the width of his palm, through which -the dawn wind came blowing gratefully in his face. Directly across -from him, but fifty feet lower and separated by a hundred-foot -chasm, a broad ridge extended out into the valley; and as he looked -two bighorn sheep came trotting up a faint trail and disappeared -among the higher crags.</p> - -<p>“That’s where the shooting took place,” Abington told himself. -“Wonder if Bill’s been hunting? Took my rifle. Have to give it back. -Well—at least I can see daylight!”</p> - -<p>The lazy clouds above the valley blossomed suddenly into radiant -hues. The gaunt hills blushed and the cañons all seemed bathed in -crimson and yellow flames. As through the narrow window of a belfry -tower, Abington gazed down on a world of magnificent peaks and crags -flaunting their bold reds and yellow beneath a redder sunrise.</p> - -<p>For the moment the scene held him, then he turned back to the -problem of finding a way out; for although a glimpse of the outside -world was heartening, he could not squeeze through an eight-inch -split in the rock. There must be some other exit. He turned away -from the window and went on.</p> - -<p>The passage took another twist and he entered a roughly outlined -room into which the daylight seeped through several fissures between -the shattered blocks of sandstone; high overhead most of them were, -although two or three were low enough to serve as narrow windows.</p> - -<p>A square boulder, the top hollowed in the shape of a rounded trough, -stood in the center of the chamber. Otherwise the room was empty, -unless the intricate mass of carved symbols might be classed as -furnishings, for the walls were covered with them.</p> - -<p>Abington’s spirits rose, though he paid little attention to the -writings. To him they proved, as did the boulder which he recognized -as a sacrificial altar, that this was a chamber much used by the -ancients. Since the route by which he had entered could not be -called a thoroughfare, there would be another way out, possibly -several.</p> - -<p>Within two minutes he had found the passage, and something else. -There on the rock floor which slanted down from the chamber on the -side opposite the one by which he had entered, was a cigarette stub; -it was one of the oval kind he himself always smoked. He stooped and -picked it up, his black eyebrows lifted in surprise.</p> - -<p>“Never reached this point yesterday—h’m! Bill not only borrowed my -gun and went hunting last night, but did a little exploring on his -own account. Looking for me, perhaps. No, Bill was scouting around -for himself. H’m! Growing surly and quarrelsome, pretending a -distrust he can’t actually feel, hoping I’d give him an excuse to -turn on me. Wonder, now, if Bill didn’t raid his own cave and hide -the stuff!</p> - -<p>“A full burro load of grub—with gun and ammunition he could live -all winter—h’m!” He went on: “Looking now for a hideout—place -where I can’t find him! Bill, my lad, you should pay more attention -to details; one little oversight—such as a cigarette stub—has -hanged a man before now. A good inch and a half of tobacco wasted -here. You’ll be wanting a cigarette very badly, Bill, before you get -another supply, remember.”</p> - -<p>He laid the stub down where he had found it and went on, haggard -eyes peering this way and that, seeking further signs of the -traitor’s presence. If Bill had been looking for his partner, then -it was an odd twist of circumstance that had sent them both -wandering around in the same labyrinth of caves and complicated -katabothra without once permitting them to meet. If, on the other -hand, Bill had been hunting a hiding place which Abington would -never find—and the archaeologist was certain this was the case—he -had a surprise in store.</p> - -<p>Just now Abington wanted most of all to get out of there and find -his way back to their camp, where there should be food. If -not—well, he had his automatic; he had seen game; and he was a -fairly accurate shot. He would not starve.</p> - -<p>The passage sharply descended, as so many others had done. Abington -went cautiously, lighting both walls and watching for obscure -openings which for all he knew might be the one he should take. This -whole country seemed to have been the playground of Vulcan, who rent -mountains asunder, twisted whole ranges of hills and broke them into -fragments and flung them aside when fresh land appeared above the -great Sonora Sea and caught his sportive fancy.</p> - -<p>Just here the shattered formation of the old volcanic fissure lay in -blocks that had been roughly hewn into the crude semblance of steps, -down which Abington went slowly, choosing his footing with the -deliberation of excessive weariness. His thirty-six-hour fast and -that terrific climb up from the Pool of Evil Death—from the -writings he had so named the place—had taken more out of him than -he realized, until he began to negotiate this rather difficult -descent. But he kept going, that cigarette stub serving now to urge -him forward.</p> - -<hr class='tb' /> - -<p style='margin-top:1em;'>Stumbling from hunger and weariness, Abington emerged into another -cavern of considerable extent and showing unmistakable signs of -human occupancy in bygone ages. Crude pots—most of them -broken—stood against the walls. Stone implements of various kinds, -all thickly covered with dust, lay scattered about; and on the -dust-strewn floor were the plain imprints of hiking boots. Bill, -then, had visited this cavern, which proved that so far Abington had -kept to the right trail.</p> - -<p>Tilting the lamp so that the light shone on the floor, he went -forward, following the boot tracks in the dust. Through winding -passages they led him—Abington might have become lost again had not -those footprints pointed the way—and so into a chamber where was -piled a little heap of things which Abington recognized as a part of -his own outfit and the things Bill had declared were stolen from his -cave across the valley.</p> - -<p>The treachery of the act stabbed through Abington’s weary -consciousness and merged into a malicious satisfaction. At any rate -the spot had been well chosen, for here was water trickling down a -rift in the wall, tinkling into a tiny basin hewn out of the rock by -some other hands than Bill’s.</p> - -<p>Abington sank to his knees and drank thirstily, then clawed at the -pile of stuff, found a tin of corned beef and cut it open with his -knife. It was not what he would have chosen for a meal, but it would -serve. There was plenty of water at hand. He ate all of the corned -beef, drank again and withdrew to a sandy niche where he felt fairly -sure of hearing Bill if he returned; laid himself down under a -shelving projection of rock, put out his lamp and went thankfully to -sleep.</p> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> -<h2 class='nobreak' id='chXI' title='XI—Roaring Guns'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER XI</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>ROARING GUNS</span> -</h2> - -<p>Refreshed, Abington awoke with a sunbeam shining fair in his eyes. -Just at first he failed to orient himself and thought he was in the -cave with Bill. But this cavern was larger and the crevices high up -on the wall, between the broken masses of rock, let in a westering -sun and a breeze straight off the desert. He was hungry again and -the salt beef had given him a burning thirst.</p> - -<p>He wondered if Bill had returned while he slept. It was quite -likely, he thought, and having no wish to be discovered just yet, he -crept very slowly from his place of concealment, careful to keep in -the shadows beneath the jutting wall.</p> - -<p>For some time he waited and listened, but the only sounds he heard -were the tinkling of the little spring and the shrill chirping of a -few cedar birds that had made their home in the crannies of the roof -and were very busy with their own small affairs.</p> - -<p>Abington grinned to himself as he cautiously approached the little -pile of supplies and began a more careful investigation than he had -attempted that morning. Two pounds of chewing tobacco—most -convincingly had Bill bewailed the loss of those plugs, he -remembered. He counted half a dozen cans of corned beef, one of the -variations in diet which had been made possible by having three pack -burros. Had Bill really imagined he could make Abington believe that -the gosh-awful had carried off chewing tobacco and corned beef in -cans?</p> - -<p>In the face of their loss of the burros Abington had not given much -thought to the missing articles from Bill’s outfit. He had visited -the cave, viewed the apparent aimlessness of the demolition, had -looked for tracks, and, having found the giant sheep tracks in the -bottom of the cañon, paid no more attention to the wreckage.</p> - -<p>“Bill must have hurried back across the valley after this stuff—no, -certain details contradict that,” Abington said to himself. “He must -have carried all this stuff on his back, along with what I gave him. -Not very bulky—he could have concealed it all in his pack, easily -enough. Pretty heavy load it would make! No wonder Bill was grouchy! -Took advantage of the gosh-awful’s work and held out a few supplies -on me. Clever—but then, the sheriff’s experience with Bill should -have warned me to be on the lookout for tricks.”</p> - -<p>Abington helped himself to what food he could stow in his pockets, -dined on another can of corned beef, took a long drink at the spring -and refilled his carbide lamp before he started out again. His plans -had changed altogether since he discovered the food cache.</p> - -<p>He no longer wanted to get back to the cave where he and Bill had -camped, for he did not believe that Bill would be there, nor any of -the supplies, and if there were fossilized human skeletons in this -region he felt that he would find them just as easily without Bill.</p> - -<p>The way out of this particular cavern led him down through another -crevice, blocky and splintered as if the whole peak had been twisted -asunder; and for the greater part of the distance it was open to the -sky.</p> - -<p>There were places where it would even have been possible for a man -to climb up out of the crevice. But the day was too far gone and -Abington had no intention of spending another night underground in -aimless wanderings, nor to roost on some dangerous pinnacle until -morning.</p> - -<p>He emerged at last on a narrow ridge that stood like the crest of a -huge, petrified wave between the peak he was leaving and another not -quite so high. Intuitively he identified it as the ridge he had -dubbed the rooster’s comb—and knew that if he were right he must -have come a long way underground. For the cave where he and Bill had -spent the night together and from which he had started on his -subterranean journey was considerably more than half a mile from the -ridge where he had seen the light.</p> - -<p>Again the high peaks were gilded with sunlight while the lower -slopes glowed scarlet and the deeper shadows merged into warm -purple. No artist would ever have dared to mix those barbaric -colors, even for a desert sunset; and if he had dared his hand must -have lacked the cunning of the Master Painter who daily wrought his -magic here on these wild hills where men so seldom ventured.</p> - -<p>Abington looked down a sheer wall of rock to a deep basin where -grass grew and a round pool of water held like a mirror the -rose-tinted reflection of the cloud straight overhead. One steep -trail led down the farther hillside to the pool and as he gazed a -mountain sheep went bounding up that trail. On the brink of the pool -stood a man foreshortened to the height of a boy. He seemed to be -staring after the sheep.</p> - -<p>“Bill! Oh, Bill!” Abington shouted between cupped hands. For the -moment he had quite forgotten Bill’s treachery, in his human -reaction to the sight of a familiar figure after the ordeal he had -just passed through. “Oh, Bill! <em>Hey!</em>”</p> - -<p>The man’s face was upturned, staring. Then he raised his rifle and -fired point-blank at Abington. The bullet struck a rock close by, -ricochetted and nicked Abington across the forearm.</p> - -<p>“You poisonous reptile!” snarled Abington, and whipped out his -automatic.</p> - -<p>At his first shot the figure went sprawling; tried to get up, fell -back and lay still. Abington watched him, a bit heartsick over the -excellence of his shot. He had never taken much to the manly sport -of planting leaden pellets in living bodies, but since his work took -him into the wild places of the world he had learned to shoot -straight because it seemed to him a necessary accomplishment. -Besides, straight shooting made an enormous saving in ammunition.</p> - -<p>“You would have it,” he grunted remorsefully. “Any jury would agree -that my life is of more use to the world than yours—and since you -are the killing kind it—”</p> - -<p>Down in the basin the wounded man struggled to hands and knees and -began crawling; slowly, stopping every moment or two, going on, -crawling in an aimless circle most horrible to watch.</p> - -<p>An oath voiced at random jarred out of Abington’s throat. He half -raised the automatic, lowered it, shook his head. He couldn’t do it. -But neither could he leave man nor animal crawling blindly, -aimlessly around until he died. Abington looked again and turned -away sickened at that creeping, groping, stricken thing hemmed in by -the crimson rocks that rimmed the basin.</p> - -<hr class='tb' /> - -<p style='margin-top:1em;'>Without any clear purpose Abington started down the ridge, looking -for some break in the cliff that separated him from the basin by a -scant two hundred feet. He had no doubt that Bill Jonathan was done -for; the automatic was a wicked weapon; the range was short.</p> - -<p>When in the dusk he came slipping and sliding down an old sheep -trail long since abandoned for a more favored path, however, there -was no wounded man to be seen in the little basin. Like a shot quail -that flutters for a moment among the bushes and is lost, the man -somehow had managed to crawl away and disappear.</p> - -<p>Abington called Bill’s name again and again while he lighted the -carbide lamp. And as the white light sprang out and drove back the -shadows, a gunshot roared just under the cliff for answer to his -hail.</p> - -<p>As he leaped sidewise, Abington shut off the lamp, then rushed the -spot where the gun had flashed. By good luck he spied the vague bulk -just as the rifle was being painfully lifted for another shot. He -snatched at the barrel and wrenched the gun free—by the feeble -resistance of the other gauging shrewdly his waning strength.</p> - -<p>“Venomous kind of snake, aren’t you?” Abington observed with pitying -contempt, as he leaned the rifle against the cliff and started to -relight the lamp.</p> - -<p>The light flared up. Abington stooped, gave a shocked exclamation as -he started back, recovered himself and stooped again. The man was -not Bill Jonathan, but a gaunt old fellow with high cheek bones and -a straight gash of a mouth drawing an evil line through his grizzled -beard. He was a total stranger, wounded and collapsed against the -cliff; beaten and utterly passive now, like a trapped animal that -will not move unless it sees some chance of escape.</p> - -<p>“By Jove, I’m glad it wasn’t Bill, at any rate!” Abington ejaculated -as he knelt to make a superficial examination. “Shot through the -side,” he diagnosed to himself. “Well below the heart. Serious -enough, but by no means fatal with the proper care—and that is -going to be something of a problem in existing conditions. Might -better have made a clean job of it—glad I didn’t, though.</p> - -<p>“Well,” he asked aloud, “where’s your camp? If it doesn’t involve -too much climbing I’ll try and get you home.” He waited while the -old man’s eyes remained fixed on him with a baleful stare. “Doesn’t -understand, maybe.”</p> - -<p>He tried French, German and a passable Italian, keenly watching the -eyes that never once changed their homicidal glare. He sat back on -his haunches and studied the glowering face with less personal -emotion than he would have displayed before an odd pattern of the -Maya death mask, and decided that the man had understood his first -question well enough and was merely stubborn.</p> - -<p>“Of course, if you want to lie here all night, that’s your -privilege, I suppose,” Abington said finally, standing up and -glancing around at the confining walls of the dusk-filled basin. He -turned the light again on the old man’s forbidding countenance, made -more sinister by the pain he was suffering.</p> - -<p>“Are your field glasses equipped with night lenses?” Abington asked -abruptly, and silently laughed at the startled wavering of those -colorless eyes.</p> - -<p>“Thought so! Now, since you do understand plain English, let me urge -you to tell me where I’ll find your camp. Of course you have one, -for you’re too well nourished and too well dressed to be living off -the country. You won’t talk? Then you are likely to catch cold in -that wound, lying out here all night. And I can assure you that a -bullet wound—especially in the body—can give plenty of trouble if -neglected.”</p> - -<p>The thin, vindictive mouth, clamped shut in that thick unkempt -beard, might have been dumb for all the sound that issued from it.</p> - -<hr class='tb' /> - -<p style='margin-top:1em;'>Abington rose and went seeking here and there with a light hoping to -discover some sign of a camp, or at least a trail that would lead to -one. He did not succeed, but he did find the field glasses which had -been dropped or cannily hidden under a bush, where they might have -been overlooked if the light had not brought a reflection from the -lenses. He was looking them over when, from up on the ridge where -the sheep had disappeared, a voice that could belong to no man save -Bill shouted anxiously:</p> - -<p>“Hullo! That you down there, professor?”</p> - -<p>Abington swung the lamp toward the sound, moving it three times up -and-down, the signal to advance which they had found convenient in -old caves and tunnels where a shout might bring down upon their -heads a small avalanche of loose rock.</p> - -<p>“Was that you shooting? You hurt?”</p> - -<p>“Come on down, Bill,” Abington called. “There’s a path, if you can -find it in the dark.” And as an afterthought, he added: “No, I’m not -hurt.”</p> - -<p>Good old Bill, to ask that question with just that demanding note of -worry in his voice! Abington remembered what he had been thinking -when he pulled and aimed his automatic, and he had the conscience to -blush for the thought. Of course Bill was no traitor! His eager, -hurried voice betrayed long hours of frantic searching in that maze -of narrow gorges that twisted and turned and crisscrossed so -bewilderingly.</p> - -<p>Abington smiled under his beard as he listened to the clattering of -small rocks on the hillside beyond the pool. Presently Bill -Jonathan’s familiar figure—never had Abington seen a more welcome -sight!—came lurching into the light zone, half running, with that -little swing of the shoulders that told of strength.</p> - -<p>“My Lord, professor, I’ve been runnin’ these hills like a rabid kit -fox, lookin’ for you!” he panted, laying both hands on Abington’s -shoulders and giving him an affectionate shake or two. “Why, you old -vinegarroon, I’ve been scared to look off a cliff or into a pot hole -for fear I’d see a coyote sneakin’ away from your ornery carcass! -Thought sure that gosh-awful thing had got you!” He stopped to -breathe. “Who was doing that shootin’? You?”</p> - -<p>Abington nodded, a bit surprised at the lump in his throat which -prevented speech.</p> - -<p>“Shootin’ at the gosh-awful? You git it?” Bill’s voice dropped to a -vengeful whisper as he sent a wholly involuntary glance behind him.</p> - -<p>“No, Bill, I didn’t. Some one down here took a shot at me and I shot -back. He’s lying over here by the cliff.”</p> - -<p>“Yeah?” Astonishment pulled Bill’s hand off the other’s shoulder. -“Who do you reckon— Was it an officer?” An indefinable change had -crept into his voice.</p> - -<p>“No, I don’t think so. He isn’t dead yet. Come over and take a look. -We’ll have to do something—get him into a shelter of some kind. -These nights are too chilly for a wounded man to lie out -unprotected.”</p> - -<p>Once more Abington was calm and cool and efficient. He turned and -led the way back to the wounded man, Bill Jonathan following at his -heels quite as if there had been neither quarrel nor separation to -jar them out of the routine of the trail.</p> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> -<h2 class='nobreak' id='chXII' title='XII—The Man Who Vanished'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER XII</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>THE MAN WHO VANISHED</span> -</h2> - -<p>Bill got up off his knees, glanced this way and that as though -looking for something of which he stood in urgent need, and turned a -bleak gaze again upon the huddled figure on the ground.</p> - -<p>“We better get a fire started,” he said to Abington, unconsciously -taking the initiative as if this was his own particular affair and -he alone must acquit himself well in the emergency. “I’ll scout -around with the light. Maybe I can find a cave—his camp, if it’s -down in here. Don’t suppose he’ll jar loose any information—”</p> - -<p>Bill continued to stare down at the man, his underjaw thrust out and -in his face a certain implacable hardness that brought him a second -puzzled glance from Abington.</p> - -<p>“Where’s your camp?” Bill demanded abruptly.</p> - -<p>The man seemed to draw himself together as if he feared a blow. The -murderous eyes flinched away from Bill’s relentless stare. “Find -out—if you think—you can!” he snarled.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’ll find it! Don’t you worry a minute,” Bill said viciously. -“If necessary, you’ll tell where it is.”</p> - -<p>“I won’t tell you. You can go ahead—kill me—be done with it—” The -wounded man defied him weakly.</p> - -<p>“Who, me?” The savage bitterness of Bill’s laugh was a revelation to -Abington. “Me kill you? I should sa-ay not! You mind what I told you -two years ago, Jack! That still goes. Don’t think you can die and -duck out from under in that way. I’ll nurse you like a sick baby! -You’ll get well, see? Well enough to travel, anyway.” He turned -abruptly away as if he would not trust himself to say more.</p> - -<p>Presently a fire was crackling beside the cliff and Bill had brought -water in his hat for Abington’s use in cleansing the wound.</p> - -<p>“Fix him up best you can, professor,” said Bill. “Then if you can -make out with the fire for light, I’ll borrow the lamp and beat it -over to where I cached our stuff. There’s that first-aid kit we -saved outa the wreck; I’ll bring it and some grub. It ain’t far. -Just over the ridge, half a mile, maybe.”</p> - -<p>He drew Abington to one side, out of hearing of the wounded man. -“That’s Jack Huntley, professor. He’s got to be put in shape for the -trip in to Vegas. It’s a matter of life and death. So do what you -can—I know you’re a pretty good doctor when it comes to a pinch. -I’ll be right back. Well—hang onto him, professor, till I get back -with the stuff. Don’t let him sneak out on you!”</p> - -<p>“If he does,” said Abington grimly, “it will be because he sneaks -into the next world. I’ll try and not let that happen, Bill, my -lad.”</p> - -<p>He stood watching the round zone of white light go dancing away and -up the hill without any visible means of locomotion, since Bill -walked behind it, slipping from rock to rock, pausing and poising -here, flitting on again like <em>Peter Pan’s</em> good fairy -<em>Tinker Bell</em>. A fantastic comparison in that wild glen where -men of past ages had met for their wooing or their warring or to -hide from strange beasts that roamed the valley; where even now the -air seemed charged with a malignant kind of hate, and with fear that -passed all reason—since the man called Jack Huntley had been -assured of the best care they could give him.</p> - -<p>All the while Abington sat by the fire and waited for Bill, he felt -the cold malevolence of the soul behind those staring eyes and the -close-shut lips. Though the fancy did not trouble him, it seemed too -that the shades of those savage ones of long ago hovered -inquisitively in the shadows that fringed the firelight; timid wild -folk who dared not walk boldly among these strange men of a later -age, yet lingered, curious to see what grim drama was about to be -played here where the stage was set with the somber trappings more -suited to an old Greek tragedy than of everyday life.</p> - -<p>The return of Bill, heavily burdened and with the white light -dancing impishly before him, did not spoil the illusion but served -instead to deepen it; for the crudely efficient surgery was -completed in silence or curt undertones that held a sinister quality -of ominous reserve. The white light painted grotesque shadows on the -brown-sandstone cliff beside them, gigantic caricatures of men in -gruesome pantomime that might have been the enactment of a torture -scene, with two fiends performing demoniac rites over some luckless -victim.</p> - -<p>Bill afterward boiled coffee and mixed a bannock in which he stirred -small fragments of cold fried bacon left over from his supper. -Abington ate ravenously, and afterward the two smoked beside the -fire, Jack Huntley lying wrapped in their two blankets.</p> - -<p>As the Great Dipper tilted more and more toward the polestar, fever -unlocked the stubborn lips of the wounded man and he muttered -endlessly, his sordid secrets betrayed with pitiless repetition. All -about millions in carnetite, he babbled, and how “they” would never -get it away from him, because he was too smart for them; it was -crazy talk, interrupted whenever Abington bent over him ministering -to his comfort, doing what he could to allay the fever.</p> - -<hr class='tb' /> - -<p style='margin-top:1em;'>Beside the fire Bill Jonathan brooded, lifting his head to listen -when the fellow’s delirium seemed to take a different turn, or some -movement roused him from his somber meditations.</p> - -<p>Dawn was beginning to work its daily miracle on hills and sky when -Bill replenished the fire and turned to Abington, who was sitting -with lean fingers clasped around his knees and a cold pipe dangling -from between his teeth.</p> - -<p>“What do you think of the case, professor? Think he’ll get well, all -right?” Bill’s tone made the question seem only the preliminary to -what was really in his mind.</p> - -<p>Abington yawned. “No reason why he shouldn’t, Bill. I recovered the -bullet; it’s a clean wound and no vital organs were injured. He -should get well without much trouble—if proper care is used.”</p> - -<p>Bill turned away without a word, though it was plain that his mind -was full of troubled thoughts. They cooked breakfast and ate in -silence. The wounded man had fallen asleep, with the sunlight softly -warm on his blanketed shoulder.</p> - -<p>Once Bill turned his head and stared long at the man, then looked at -Abington, lips parted for speech that after all was withheld. -Abington lifted an eyebrow inquiringly and Bill looked away.</p> - -<p>“What’s on your mind?” Abington asked finally, setting down his -empty cup. “They say confession is good for the soul.”</p> - -<p>“Yeah. So’s a few other things. Come on over here on these rocks, -professor. That old possum is liable to be listenin’.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think so,” Abington cheerfully disagreed, but he followed -Bill to a pile of boulders some distance away, where they could talk -without disturbing the patient, or being overheard by him.</p> - -<p>“Now, there’s a question I’d like to ask you, professor. Who did you -think you was shootin’ at last night, when you ventilated Jack -Huntley’s liver?”</p> - -<p>Abington’s lips twitched. “At you, Bill.”</p> - -<p>“Yeah?” Bill’s jaw stiffened. “Want another try?”</p> - -<p>“No, I don’t think so. This man has complicated matters, but he has -also cleared up a few things for me.”</p> - -<p>“Yeah, and he’ll clear up more—for me,” Bill opined. “If it’s a -fair question, I’d like to know where you’ve been since yesterday.”</p> - -<p>“Well, not to relate all of my thrilling adventures, I have been -wandering around through a series of caves and in the course of time -I found myself in a cavern in the top of that peak up there. I judge -it to be the one where I saw the reflection of the sun on field -glasses. While trying to find my way out of there, I picked up a -half-smoked cigarette, of the oval kind which I use.”</p> - -<p>“Yeah? One of the flat ones? Kinda backtracked yourself, eh?”</p> - -<p>“No-o—for very good reasons I knew that I had never been there -before. I thought I had crossed your trail, Bill, my lad.”</p> - -<p>“Not mine, professor.” Bill shook his head. “I’ve been huntin’ the -hills over by our cave, lookin’ for you. I was workin’ over this way -when I heard the shootin’ last night.”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Well, a bit later I came across a cache of food taken from our -outfit across the valley.”</p> - -<p>“The hell you did!” Bill started, and nearly dropped his cigarette. -“You sure?”</p> - -<p>“Absolutely sure. I ate two cans of our Imperial corned -beef—breakfast and dinner. I expected you to show up there, but of -course you didn’t. It would make a splendid hideout, Bill. There’s a -spring, and cracks in the rock let in sunlight, a perfect retreat. -Impossible to come at one from the rear—”</p> - -<p>Abington paused and his shoulders moved involuntarily. He was -thinking of the Pool of Evil Death. “I’ll show you the place. When I -am through in this country you’ll find it useful, no doubt.”</p> - -<p>“Not unless Jack Huntley dies. If I can ever get him in somehow to -the sheriff, I won’t need to hide out in the hills. Unless,” Bill -added dubiously, “they cinch me for that car I run over the cliff.” -His eyes clouded. He had forgotten about the destruction of that -car.</p> - -<p>“I expect they’d hand me about five years for that,” he added -gloomily, after a pause. “Where’s the way into that cave of yours?”</p> - -<p>“I’d have to lead you to the spot and show you. There’s time enough. -I shall want to go back and make a thorough examination of the place -for science.”</p> - -<p>Bill looked up. “I’ll have to disappoint you about them stone men, -professor, I run acrost the cañon yesterday where the hole went into -the cave. There’s been a big slide in there. I couldn’t tell within -a hundred feet, where the opening used to be. We’d have to tear down -the whole mountain to find it.”</p> - -<p>Abington said nothing. Creeping into his mind again came suspicion. -Had Bill ever known where there was such a cave? Surely that slide -had chosen a most convenient time and place for Bill Jonathan!</p> - -<p>“I know where it was,” Bill said doggedly, as if he read the -thought. “I can show you the slide; you can see it for yourself, -professor.”</p> - -<p>“My college of science is not collecting slides,” Abington drawled. -“Well, I must be getting back to my patient. If he’s awake, he may -want to eat something.”</p> - -<p>He rose, but Bill had not finished, it seemed. He remained seated on -the rock hunched over his cigarette and staring morosely across the -little lake.</p> - -<p>“So you think I lied to you,” muttered Bill. “You think I’ve been -stalling you along! That goes kinda tough, professor. I’ve been -dodgin’ around in the hills—yes, sure I have! But I ain’t going to -dodge no more and you can go to hell and hunt your own Adamses. You -wait till I lead that bird in to the sheriff and make him come -clean! It’s him that’ll take a ride to Carson—not me.”</p> - -<p>“And the car?” Abington asked softly, his beard hiding a smile.</p> - -<p>“Aw, hell!” growled Bill, jerked back to harsh realities.</p> - -<p>In his bitterness over the sudden frustration of his hopes, Abington -would not speak a word of comfort. Not even the rich storehouse of -ancient records in the labyrinth of caves could quite console him at -the moment, his heart had been so set on taking back to his college -a fossilized man of the Cretaceous period.</p> - -<p>He walked moodily over to the makeshift bed of his patient and -stared blankly. There was no patient. A shout brought Bill and the -two nosed along the cliff like hounds baffled over a warm trail -suddenly wiped out with water.</p> - -<p>Because the man had been obliged to crawl, it was manifestly -impossible for him to get far. Even so, they were a good half hour -in running him down and then it was the slight indentations of his -knees in a skift of sand behind a bush that gave the clew.</p> - -<p>Bill went down on all fours and disappeared. After a minute or two, -Abington followed.</p> - -<p>It might have been an oversized badger hole, so far as outward -appearances went. Even in his haste the trained mind of Abington -noted a cunning arrangement of rocks deliberately piled haphazard -against the cliff at some time long past, as the twisted roots of -old bushes and trees clinging the twining down through the -dirt-filled interstices gave mute testimony.</p> - -<p>Yet the rock pile was in reality a solid, arched covering for the -sloped entrance to another cave, in the mouth of which Jack Huntley -lay sweating with the pain of his wound, as frenziedly malevolent as -a rattler pinned under a rock.</p> - -<p>Kneeling facing each other with the wounded man gasping curses -between them, Abington and Bill Jonathan locked glances; Abington’s -eyes coldly searching; Bill’s defiant, hurt and trying to cover a -certain wistfulness he would have denied with much profanity.</p> - -<p>“He’s got to clear me with the law!” Bill said between clenched -jaws. “He’s the only man on earth that can do it. He pulled the -robbery they laid onto me and if he don’t come clean I’ll kill him -inch by inch!”</p> - -<hr class='tb' /> - -<p style='margin-top:1em;'>Jack Huntley turned his head and sent a glance to Bill’s face; -shifted his eyes to Abington’s, that were black as ebony and quite -as hard; turned again to Bill and met a cold stare that shriveled -his courage to whining cowardice.</p> - -<p>“Don’t you, Bill! I—I’m done for! You can’t hurt a dying man! You -wouldn’t have the heart!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, wouldn’t I?” Bill’s laugh was in itself a threat. “Say! I got -about as much heart as them stone men we’re after. You wait and see -how much heart I’ve got for you—you hound!”</p> - -<p>“It’s murder!” Jack Huntley’s voice rose to a shriek. “You wouldn’t -stand by and see him kill a man that—that’s all shot up—” His eyes -turned glassily to Abington.</p> - -<p>“Why shouldn’t I?” Never had Abington’s voice been more casually -brutal. “You’re going to die anyway, you know.”</p> - -<p>“Yeah, and you won’t die so darned peaceful, either,” Bill added -darkly.</p> - -<p>“Of course you can save yourself a good deal of suffering,” Abington -pointed out in his calm professional tone, “by writing a full -confession. In that case I should feel obliged to protect you from -Bill’s vengeful nature.”</p> - -<p>“It’s worse than Injuns!” Huntley cried, his fear rising to panic.</p> - -<p>“Not if you write the truth,” Abington pointed out, taking from an -inner pocket a water-warped notebook. “Here’s a fountain pen which -may contain enough ink, unless you wax overeloquent. Write the -truth, Huntley. I’ll take care of Bill.”</p> - -<p>“You’ll have a hell of a time, professor, if he don’t clean his -dirty soul right down to the bottom!”</p> - -<p>“I’ll have to be raised up,” whined the sick man, darting furtive -glances here and there as if, even yet, he hoped by some miracle to -escape.</p> - -<p>“For legal purposes,” Abington directed, holding Huntley up and -giving Bill a quelling look, “begin like this: ‘I, Jack Huntley, of -sound mind—and of my own free will—do hereby confess—that on -the—’”</p> - -<p>It was Bill himself who named the date, snapping the words out with -a savage click of the teeth.</p> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> -<h2 class='nobreak' id='chXIII' title='XIII—A Clever Idea'> - <span style='font-size:1.2em'>CHAPTER XIII</span><br /><span style='font-size:1.1em'>A CLEVER IDEA</span> -</h2> - -<p>Halting, hating to set down in plain words the full extent of his -guilt, driven to it by the relentless promptings of Bill, Jack -Huntley wrote three precious pages, that would make interesting -reading for the county officials, before he signed his name. -Abington saw the teary warning of the pen going dry and dropping -blots on the book, and signed his name as a witness before all the -ink ran out. The thing was done.</p> - -<p>Bill threw back his shoulders with an unconscious gesture of relief, -and stepped away. “Now, die and be damned to you!” he said as he -turned his back and walked off.</p> - -<p>Abington looked after him grinning. “This is where he holes up, -Bill. He should have a pretty fair equipment. Better explore around -a little. I have carbide tied up in my handkerchief, if you need the -lamp. But the place seems well lighted from above.”</p> - -<p>“Yeah, I’m sure goin’ to look around. I believe he’s the one -poisoned our burros. I bet—”</p> - -<p>Abington looked up, got to his feet and started toward Bill, who had -given a sudden bellowing whoop.</p> - -<p>“Well, the hound!” Bill was balancing two large mescal stalks in his -hands. Light they were as cork, tough as bamboo, large at the base -as Bill’s muscular leg above the knee. Three feet from the base of -each was a foot rest, lashed securely to the stalk.</p> - -<p>“There’s the gosh-awful!” Bill said in the incredulous tone of one -who can scarcely believe his own eyes. “Look at how them sticks is -cut on the bottom, professor! Sheep hoofs to a T. Stilts! And -that’s how the thing took such long steps and got over the country -so almighty mysterious!”</p> - -<p>“Ingenious!” Abington declared, balancing the stilts in his hands -before he stood them against the wall of the cave. “Simple, too. I -had a suspicion of some such thing, but dismissed it as impractical -in so rough a country.”</p> - -<p>“I dunno. They’re light as paper. They could be carried easy enough -on rocky ground, and just used for sand and gravel.” He paused. “Now -I <em>know</em> he poisoned the burros. He seen your camp set up in -plain sight, and come straddlin’ over there. A feller can cover a -lot of country on stilts, once he gets used to walking on them. I -used to when I was a kid.”</p> - -<p>Abington, however, was not quite satisfied. There lacked the motive -and he spoke of it. “If he had raided camps and carried off the -supplies, I could understand it. But this attempt at terrorization, -and the insane destruction of good food, does not come within the -bounds of logic.”</p> - -<p>“Yeah, but you don’t know that bird like I do,” returned Bill. “He’s -what God used for a pattern when He made the first drove of hogs. -You mind all that talk last night? That about having millions in -carnetite, and being richer than Rockefeller? Jack thinks he’s got -hold of something in here and he’s been trying to scare everybody -off. Maybe he’s got something worth holdin’ on to and maybe he -ain’t. If he has, I sure feel I’m entitled to grab it!”</p> - -<p>Abington was walking around the roomy chamber, flicking this thing -and that thing with a glance, overlooking nothing. He stooped over a -pile of whitish rock stained thickly with great blobs of bright -yellow, selected a lump and looked up, seeking an opening where the -strongest light fell through. He went over and stood under the -light, turning the rock this way and that while he examined it -through a miner’s glass.</p> - -<p>“So this is his millions in carnetite!” he said contemptuously at -last, tossing the sample to Bill, who caught it dexterously as a -catcher cups palms for a ball. “More than one poor devil has been -fooled by limonite. That’s what this is, if I am not badly mistaken, -a yellow ocher, resembling carnetite. There’s your revenge. Bill. Go -tell him his millions in carnetite are just a dream. Tell him it’s -limonite. If he’s greedy as you say, that will be punishment -enough.”</p> - -<p>“Not when he thinks he’s dying,” Bill grumbled. “He won’t give a -darn. What’s he flopping around like that for?” he asked sharply. -“Something bite him, do you s’pose? If it did, it’ll die,” he went -on sententiously.</p> - -<hr class='tb' /> - -<p style='margin-top:1em;'>Abington ran over to where Jack Huntley lay on the ground. He could -do nothing, with the primitive means at hand. Huntley had indeed -been bitten—by death. Whether the wound had been more serious than -Abington diagnosed it, or whether he had injured himself in crawling -to the cave, they could not of course do more than guess. Within -half an hour Jack Huntley lay dead on the floor of the cave.</p> - -<p>“This means that I must go in and have a talk with the sheriff,” -Abington observed. “A mere formality, but one I prefer not to -neglect. Want to come along, Bill? I’ll pay them for the car, far as -that goes.”</p> - -<p>“Yeah, I guess maybe I better go in and have it over with. I’ll pay -you back in work, professor, if you’ll go ahead and settle for that -darn car I wrecked. But don’t let ’em stick you on the price of it. -It wasn’t worth more’n two or three hundred dollars.”</p> - -<p>“I’m a fair judge of cars,” Abington remarked. “It will be all -right, Bill.”</p> - -<p>“Yeah. And when we come back in here with a fresh outfit, professor, -we better bring along a couple of good muckers and some powder. I -believe I can maybe locate the hole into that cave, if I can take my -time and have some help. Or maybe we can find another way in there. -We sure oughta come fixed to spend the whole winter in here. I found -a lot more carvings than I’d ever saw before.”</p> - -<p>Abington laughed to himself, and clapped a hand down on Bill’s -shoulder. “Bill, my lad, that’s the true scientific spirit! You’ll -be an Adam chaser as long as you live, now you’ve started.”</p> - -<p>“Yeah,” said Bill, staring around him at the encircling red hills. -“They’re in here somewhere, professor. Eight feet tall and big -accordin’. No foolin’. I seen ’em myself. Well, let’s bury the dead -and get ready and beat it. We want to get back in here while the -good weather holds.”</p> - -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADAM CHASER ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. 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