ang was alone.

"I'm looking for Mr. Gregory," he faltered.

"Haven't seen him since he left the house."

The girl was by his side, looking anxiously into his face.

"Anything wrong, Jack?" she asked quickly.

McCoy shook his head.

"No," he said. "I just wanted to talk to him about changing the pack in
the morning. Your aunt told me he came back and went to meet you."

Dickie's surprise entered into her voice as she said:

"That's funny. I walked all the way from Swanson's and I didn't meet
him."

As she ceased speaking came a sharp remembrance of the two figures
battling in the roadway. Could one of them have been Kenneth Gregory?
She expressed her fears to McCoy.

McCoy started at once for the hill.

"Go back to the house, Dick," he called back. "I'll go down there and
see what's the trouble."

Dickie followed after him.

"I'm going too," she said. "I should have gone back and told Swanson
or----"

Her words were interrupted by the sharp report of a gun from over the
hill.

McCoy broke into a run.

"Go back," he cried. "Hurry. Get your gun. I'm going on."

* * * * *

Boris looked stupidly into the white face of Kenneth Gregory as he knelt
over him. Then he staggered to his feet and looked up and down the road.
As the possible consequences of his act began to filter through his
consciousness, he jumped to cover in the brush and ran down the ravine
in the direction of Russian valley.

When Dickie Lang reached the spot where she had seen the men fighting in
the roadway, she found Jack McCoy bending over the sprawling figure of
Kenneth Gregory.

"Is he dead?"

McCoy shook his head.

"The bullet went into his side," he said. "He's losing a lot of blood
but he's still conscious. Run down to Swanson's and phone for the
doctor. Then have Bill come and help me move him."

While McCoy worked to staunch the flow of blood, the girl ran to carry
out his orders. Remorse gripped her heart as she raced down the hill.
She should have gone to Gregory's aid. She might have done something. At
least she could have discovered the identity of his assailant. If she
had gone at once for Swanson, he might have arrived in time to prevent
the shot.

When she reached the house she roused the Swede and rushed to the
telephone, giving hasty instructions to the fisherman to take a couple
of oars and a blanket and go at once to McCoy's assistance. After an
interminable period of waitin