he rail, a wordless
prayer in his heart that no broken legs or sprained ankles were to be
his portion. He landed unhurt in a providential flowerbed, and
struggled again to his feet to discover that both the monk and Krech
had vanished.

There was a little-used trail which commenced near the birch-trees and
ran sharply downhill to the small house that Miss Ocky had donated to
her nephew and his bride. Creighton knew of its existence, and never
doubted now that the monk had disappeared into it at the last moment
with the impetuous Krech in full pursuit. He drew an electric torch
from his hip-pocket as he raced for the dark entrance to the path,
anxiety for his friend the paramount force that speeded his flying feet.

"Why did he try to jump him like that?" he thought. "If he had only
used his head a bit! He could have sauntered into the house, out the
back door, crept through the woods and taken the fellow in the rear.
He has all the courage of a mad bull--and about as much sense."

This unkind summary of Krech's character was no sooner complete than
Creighton himself was in the trail, plunging headlong down its sharp
declivity with quite as much recklessness as his friend had shown, save
the advantage of his flash. He played its powerful beam ahead of him
as he ran and leaped, until twenty yards from the entrance he suddenly
dug his heels hard into the rubble of the path to halt his wild career
as the light showed him the body of a man lying face downward in the
trail. Its bulk alone left no doubt of identity.

"_Hell!_" snapped the detective, and the one vicious word was the
epitome of all that he felt.

With desperate haste he jammed the torch into a crotch of a small tree
so that its rays illuminated the scene, then dropped to his knees
beside the prone body of his friend, exerted all his strength and
rolled it over on its back. His eager fingers, pressing, prodding,
explored the still form throughout its length.

"No wounds--no broken bones," was his first relieved diagnosis. Then
"Hello--here we are!" An angry red abrasion on the big man's forehead
had caught his attention. He touched it, and smiled as it elicited a
groan from the victim that sounded to Creighton like celestial music.
"A crack on the head--knocked him out!" he muttered, then raised his
voice. "I say, Krech--come to, old man, come to!"

The adjuration seemed to penetrate Mr. Krech's dazed faculties. His
eyes opened, blinked once