the east, twisted out to the south. And
in the shut-in valley it made and left behind it to all but cover the
entire floor of the valley a lakelet of very clear water not over a
quarter of a mile from edge to edge, but very deep. Upon the far side, a
little back and close under the overhanging cliffs, there was a great,
jagged-mouthed, yawning hole, of a type not uncommon in this part of the
western country, from which heavy, noxious gases drifted sometimes when
the wind caught them up, gases which for the most part thickened and
made deadly the dark interior. There were skeletons to be seen dimly by
daylight down there, ten feet below the surface of the uneven ground,
the vaguely phosphorescent bones of jack rabbits that had fallen into
this natural trap, of coyotes, even of a young cow that had been
overpowered before it could struggle upward along the steep sides. And
the odour clinging to the mouth of the hole was indescribably foul and
sickening.

Not a pretty place, and yet some man many years ago had builded him a
habitation here that was half dugout, half log lean-to. The door of the
place faced Poison Hole, and was not two hundred yards from it. The
hovel had been in disuse long before Buck Thornton came to the range
save as a shelter to some of the wild things of the mountains.

From the southern shore of the lake Thornton stared across the little
body of water trying to make out a light to tell him that Clayton was
expecting him. But there was no fire, and the stars, reflecting
themselves in the natural mirror, failed to show him so much as the
outline of the lean-to in the shadows of the cliffs. He turned down into
the trail which ran about the shore, passed around the western end of
the lake, and riding slowly, his eyes ever watchful about him as was the
man's habit, he came at last to the deserted "shack."

CHAPTER XIV

IN THE NAME OF FRIENDSHIP

Twenty yards from the door he drew rein, sitting still, frowning into
the darkness. Not for the first time was he realizing that the note
might not be from Clayton at all; that some other man could have known
of his debt of gratitude to the little fellow who had befriended him
five years ago; that the name might have been used to draw him here,
alone and very far from any ears to hear, any eyes to see, what might
happen. He could name a half dozen men who were not above this sort of
thing, men who had, some of them, sworn to "get him." There were the