...
like you are amuse? ... I am wondering what you may have done to me, my
frien' Clinch. ..."

For a while he remained kneeling beside the dead. Then: "Ah, bah," he
said, pocketing the morocco case and getting to his feet.

He moved a little way toward the open trail, stopped, came back, stood
his rifle against a tree.

For a while he was busy with his sharp Spanish clasp knife, whittling
and fitting together two peeled twigs. A cross was the ultimate result.
Then he placed Clinch's hands palm to palm upon his chest, lay the cross
on his breast, and shined the result with complacency.

Then Quintana took off his hat.

"L'ami Mike," he said, "you were a _man!_ ... Adios!"

* * * * *

Quintana put on his hat. The path was free. The world lay open before
Jose Quintana once more; -- the world, his hunting ground.

"But," he thought uneasily, "what is it that I bring home this time?
How much is paste? My God, how droll that smile of Clinch. ... Which is
the false -- his jewels or mine? Dieu que j'etais bete!---- Me who
have not suspec' that there are _two_ trays within my jewel-box! ... I
unnerstan'. It is ver' simple. In the top tray the false gems. Ah!
Paste on top to deceive a thief! ... Alors. ... Then what I have recover
of Clinch is the _real!_ ... Nom de Dieu! ... I think thees dead man
make mock of me -- all inside himse'f----"

So, in darkness, prowling south by west, shining the trail furtively,
and loaded rifle ready, Quintana moved with stealthy, unhurried tread
out of the wilderness that had trapped him and toward the tangled border
of that outer world which led to safe, obscure, uncharted labyrinths --
old-world mazes, immemorial hunting grounds -- haunted by men who prey.

* * * * *

The night had turned frosty. Quintana, wet to the knees and very tired,
moved slowly, not daring to leave the trail because of sink-holes.

However, the trail led to Clinch's Dump, and sooner or later he must
leave it.

What he had to have was a fire; he realised that. Somewhere off the
trail, in big timber if possible, he must built a fire and master this
deadly chill that was slowly paralysing all power of movement.

He knew that a fire in the forest, particularly in big timber, could be
seen only a little way. He must take his chances with sink-holes and
find some spot in the forest to build that fire.

Who could discover him except by accident?

Who would prowl the midnight wilderness? At