n the west was
a flaming glory; and, upon the edge of the wood he turned to glance back
at this radiance, splashes of gold and pink flushing to an ominous red.
For a long moment he stood to stare around about the solitary
countryside, joying in life and the glory of it. Then he turned, with a
smile on his lips, and stepped into the gloom of the wood. On he went,
forcing his way through the under-brush until, reaching the clearing, he
halted suddenly and faced about, fancying he had heard a rustle in the
leaves hard by. Spike, cowering behind a bush with M'Ginnis's fingers
gripping his arm, shivered and sweated and held his breath until
Ravenslee moved on again, and, coming to a fallen tree, seated himself
there and sat chin on fist, expectation in every tense line of him.

"Now!" whispered M'Ginnis hoarsely, "get him now--before Hermy comes t'
him!" Shuddering, Spike levelled the weapon he held, but at that moment
Ravenslee was filling his pipe, and something in this homely action
checked the lad, paralysed finger on trigger, and shrinking, he cowered
down upon the grass despite the fierce hand that gripped him. "Get him
now, Kid--get him now! Aim f'r his chest--y' can't miss at this
distance--"

"I--I can't, Bud!" gasped the boy, writhing, "I can't do it--I can't!"
Dropping the revolver, he hid his face in sweating hands and shivered.

From somewhere near by a woodpecker was tapping busily, but save for
this no sound broke the pervading stillness, for the gentle wind had
died away. But suddenly the quiet was rent and shivered, and Spike,
deafened by the report, glanced up to see Ravenslee rise to his feet,
stagger forward blindly, then, with arms outflung, pitch forward upon
his face and lie there.

"By God, you--you've shot him, Bud!" he whimpered, "you--you've killed
dear old Geoff--oh, my God!"

"Aw, quit--quit all that!" whispered M'Ginnis breathlessly, "that's what
we came for, ain't it? What you lookin' at?"

"It lays so--still! so awful still!" Spike gasped.

"Well, what ye got t' go starin' at it that ways for? Come on--let's
beat it; it's us for th' quick get-away in case any one heard. Come on,
Kid!"

"But you've--killed Geoff!"

"I guess he don't need no more--'n' say, Kid, you're in on this job
too, don't forget! Come on, it's little old N' York for ours!"

Though M'Ginnis dragged at him, Spike huddled limply on his knees, his
glaring eyes always staring in the one direction; whereupon M'Ginnis