n about discovery by Quintana's people.

It was only when he came into the hardwoods that the combined necessity
for caution and torch perplexed and worried him.

Somewhere in here began an outcrop of rock running east for miles. Only
stunted cedar and berry bushes found shallow nourishment on this ridge.

When at last he found it he travelled upon it, more slowly, constantly
obliged to employ the torch.

After an hour, perhaps, his feet splashed in shallow water. _That_ was
what he was expecting. The water was only an inch or two deep; it was
ice cold and running north.

Now, he must advance with every caution. For here trickled the thin
flow of that rocky rivulet which was the other entrance and exit
penetrating that immense horror of marsh and bog and depthless sink-hole
known as Drowned Valley.

* * * * *

For a long while he did not dare to use his torch; but now he was
obliged to.

He shined the ground at his feet, elevated the torch with infinite
precaution, throwing a fan-shaped light over the stretch of sink he had
suspected and feared. It flanked the flat, wet path of rock on either
side. Here Death spread its slimy trap at his very feet.

Then, as he stood taking his bearings with burning torch, far ahead in
the darkness a light flashed, went out, flashed twice more, and was
extinguished.

Quintana!

Smith's wits were working like lightning, but instinct guided him before
his brain took command. He levelled his torch and repeated the three
signal flashes. Then, in darkness, he came to swift conclusion.

There were no other signals from the unknown. The stony bottom of the
rivulet was his only aid.

In his right hand the torch hung almost touching the water. At times he
ventured sufficient pressure for a feeble glimmer, then again trusted to
his sense of contact.

For three hundred yards, counting his strides, he continued on. Then,
in total darkness, he pocketed the torch, slid a cartridge into the
breech of is rifle, slung the weapon, pulled out a handkerchief, and
tied it across his face under the eyes.

Now, he drew the torch from his pocket, levelled it, sent three quick
flashes, out into the darkness.

Instantly, close ahead, three blinding flashes broke out.

For Hal Smith it had all become a question of seconds.

Death lay depthless on either hand; ahead death blocked the trail in
silence.

Out of the dark some unseen rifle might vomit death in his very face at
any