to say
that, seeing the nest-egg you've got in the bag under that stone yonder.
What more could you want?"

Moreas sprang to his feet with a cry.

"You have taken my stones!" he cried, at the same time producing his
pistol. "What have you done with them? Curse you!"

"I have hidden them where you will never find them," answered Max. Then,
seeing that the other was advancing threateningly towards him, he cried,
"Stand back, Moreas! I warn you, stand back! If you come a step closer,
your blood be upon your own head."

"Damn your waste of words!" stormed the other, scarcely able to speak
for the rage that was consuming him. "Give me my stones. Tell me where
you have hidden them."

"I'll tell you nothing," retorted Max, "save that you had better not
come any nearer. I know you for the traitorous cur you are, and if you
advance another step I'll shoot you."

But Moreas was too far gone to hear or heed him. A fit of demoniacal
rage had taken possession of him. The madness he had shown in the
desert, and which had since died down, had returned to him once more and
with a yell of fury he pointed his revolver at Max and fired. The bullet
whistled past the other's ear. He fired again, this time with better
execution, for Max felt a stab, as of a red-hot knitting needle passing
through his shoulder, and knew that he was hit. Still able, however, to
lift his arm, he raised his rifle, pointed it, and pulled the trigger.
Moreas leapt into the air with a cry, and an instant later fell forward
on his face. His body quivered for a moment, and then all was still.

"Exit Moreas," said Max quietly, and then, letting his rifle fall, put
up his right hand to his face. The world was swimming before his eyes.
He staggered and fell to the ground in a dead faint. How long he lay
there he could not tell, but when his senses returned to him it was
night and the stars were shining brightly. His shoulder hurt him
terribly, but he gave it scarcely a thought. "What shall I do?" he
muttered, as he staggered to his feet. "I cannot stay here. This place
is accursed."

His one all-mastering desire was to be done with that plain for ever. He
felt that it would drive him mad to stay on it another hour. The fire
was still burning, though very faintly; sufficient light, however, came
from it to show him Moreas' body still lying beside it. The man's dying
shriek rang in his ears, as it would ring so long as he could hear
anything. He shuddered, as t