e Hastings boys: "If you shoot, aim low for their bellies. Don't
leave on blood around. Scrape it up. We bury what we get."

He and Smith stood looking after the five slouching figures moving away
toward their blind trails. When all had disappeared:

"Show me Jake's mark," he said calmly.

Smith led him to the edge of the bog, knelt down, drew aside a branch of
witch-hopple. A man's footprint was plainly visible in the mud.

"That's Jake," said Clinch slowly. "I know them half-soled boots o'
hisn." He lifted another branch. "There's another man's track!"

"The other is probably Leverett's."

"Likely. He's got thin feet."

"I think I'd better go after them," said Smith, reflectively.

"They'll plug you, you poor jackass -- two o' them like that, and one
a-settin' up to watch out. Hell! Be you tired o' bed an' board?"

Smith smiled: "Don't you worry, Mike."

"Why? You think you're that smart? Jest becuz you stuck up a tourist
you think you're cock o' the North Woods -- with them two foxes lyin'
out for to snap you up? Hey? Why, you poor dumb thing, Jake runs
Canadian hootch for a livin'; and Leverett's a trap thief! What could
_you_ do with a pair o' foxes like that?"

"Catch 'em," said Smith, coolly. "You mind your business, Mike."

As he shouldered his rifle and started into the marsh, Clinch dropped a
heavy hand on his shoulder; but the young man shook it off.

"Shut up," he said sharply. "You've a private war on your hands. So
have I. I'll take care of my own."

"What's _your_ grievance?" demanded Clinch, surprised.

"Jake Kloon played a dirty trick on me."

"When was that?"

"Not very long ago."

"I hadn't heard," said Clinch.

"Well, you hear it now, don't you? All right. All right; I'm going
after him."

As he started again across the marsh, Clinch called out in a guarded
voice: "Take good care of that packet if you catch them rats. It
belongs to Eve."

"I'll take such good care of it," replied Smith, "that its proper owner
need not worry."

* * * * *

II

The "proper owner" of the packet was, at that moment, on the Atlantic
Ocean, travelling toward the United States.

Four other pretended owners of the Grand Duchess Theodorica's jewels,
totally unconscious of anything impending which might impair their
several titles to the gems, were now gathered together in a wilderness
within a few miles of one another.

Jose Quintana lay somewhere in the forests with his