to heave and pant as the force of reviving life
wracked his body. Moans escaped from his lips, moans of agony, as if
unconsciously he was protesting against the painful return to
consciousness. And Garman smoked, artistically and with luxurious
enjoyment, his attention concentrated upon his cigar, while Ramos
watched the writhing Indian with a sneering smile to betray his
enjoyment of the spectacle.

Presently Willy lay still, his breathing became easier and he opened
his eyes. Higgins, the volatile, leaped back and swore at the
indefinable horror in those eyes. Payne tightened his lips and laid an
assuring hand on Willy's shoulder. A spasm of terror passed over the
Indian's features as memory returned. He sprang to his feet, looking
wildly round and saw Garman. Then he cowered, shrinking together as if
striving to sink into the ground, to return to unconsciousness,
terrified by some overwhelming, incomprehensible horror.

Garman continued his attention to his cigar. The heavy smoke lay in
swaying clouds above his head. To judge by his expression Willy Tiger
did not exist, save as an incident of the past. Through the curtain of
smoke which oozed upward through his mustache at regular intervals, his
eyes gleamed alert, interested, concentrated upon a problem compared to
which Willy was only an infinitesimal insect.

Payne understood. Garman had dealt--possibly through Ramos--with
Willy. Now his mind had turned to the problem of dealing with Payne
and Higgins. His manner indicated complete confidence in his ability
to settle the problem as he saw fit, betraying how completely he felt
himself the master.

Payne controlled his own irritation at the other's attitude of
superiority and sat down. Apparently unconscious of Garman's presence
on the other side of the fire he sampled a strip of broiled venison,
found it good and began to eat. Higgins presently followed his
example. Save for the presence of Willy Tiger with the unspeakable
horror in his eyes it might have been amicable hunting party at
breakfast.

"I like that," said Garman finally. "Cool hand, Payne. You make
yourself right to home."

"Why shouldn't I?" Roger waved his hand to the southward. "I own it."

"Yes; but you're in a hole just at present. How do you expect to get
out of here?"

Payne finished his piece of venison and wiped his fingers.

"Garman," said he, "who are you? What are you? What are you butting
in for?"

Garman