or twice, opened again and stared tranquilly
up into Creighton's. His lips moved and words issued.

"A fall like that," he observed calmly, "would have killed an ordinary
man."

"Thank heaven!" ejaculated the detective fervently. "Are you much
hurt? What happened?"

"Tripped--came down with a dirty wallop and cracked my head on
something awfully hard." He raised himself cautiously to a sitting
position and glanced about him. "That chunk of granite there--doesn't
it look to you as if it were freshly broken?"

"I guess it was only this big root!" said Creighton, and laughed aloud
in his relief. Then his mirth abruptly gave way to surprise. "Hello,"
he said. "Hello--hello--hello!"

He had been looking around too, and now he picked up a loose end of
stout wire that was attached at one extremity to a sapling. There
could be no question as to what it was doing there. Until Krech's shin
had snapped it, it had been stretched taut across the trail a foot
above the ground.

"Gee Joseph!" exclaimed the big man, staring at the simple apparatus of
destruction. "Clever little hellion, ain't he?" He stood up, moved
his arms and legs tentatively and gave himself a shake.

"All right?" asked Creighton quickly.

"Never felt better in my life. Little shaking-up like that--good for a
man. Who was the ancient johnnie that used to bounce up from the earth
a bit stronger for every time he hit it?"

"Antaeus," suggested the detective absently.

"Uh-huh. H. Antaeus Krech--that's me." He added with more appropriate
seriousness, "What became of our little playmate?"

"Search me," replied Creighton, still thoughtful. "I'm trying to
figure out what was back of all this. It was a prearranged trap, of
course. He showed himself deliberately, invited us to chase him, then
arranged this wire to insure his get-away. But--why?"

"I can give you a good guess, Peter, my boy," said Krech slowly. "I
think I have inadvertently saved your life."

"Huh? What's that?"

"Suppose you are getting too close to the truth of who killed Simon
Varr--or suppose the murderer thinks you are, which comes to the same
thing. He doesn't care for the idea--not a-tall. So he has a happy
inspiration and plots this scenario as you have described it--only to
draw an anticlimax. You were supposed to do the chasing. Naturally he
couldn't foresee that your guardian angel, the unfortunate me, would
come galloping down here and spring his trap.