ed his rifle on a rock. But Morani,
having suffered helplessly for a whole season at the hands of this
nimble-tongued comrade, saw his chance. Before Werner realised his
plan, the Italian laid one long supple hand on the stock and wrenched
it away. In his left hand gleamed the hovering stiletto.

"No rifle," he rasped. "I watch-a you better." He held the gun behind
his back.

For a mad moment Werner thought of hurling himself on his leering
enemy, but the knife waved before his eyes. No chance there. An
overwhelming sense of hopelessness, of friendlessness, sent him
cringing to Morani's feet. The Italian, gloating, leaned forward and
prodded with the stiletto. Werner, beside himself now with terror,
leaped up and ran a few yards. But the smirking face of the Italian
followed. In that direction lay speedy death.

Trembling, Werner sank to his knees like a whipped dog. On his knees
he crept on and on. And above him hung those gloating eyes and the
threatening stiletto. Urged by that smirk of death the cowering man
crept forward. There was blood now on his torn knees and hands, but he
did not feel it. Only he must crawl on and on before the horrible
Nemesis at his back.

Neither noticed where their path led. They reached the end of the
trees. The open ahead promised Werner greater freedom of flight.
Morani was blind to everything but the terror of his old enemy. With
twisted head Werner moved out from the trees. Something loomed before
him, blocking the way. A wall of loose sand! With a gasp he raised
his eyes.

Above him loomed the five-foot grade, protecting them from the shack.
Werner shifted his horror-stricken eyes only a little--and looked
straight into those of the contractor staring through the sleepers.
Torrance was moving his rifle to take aim.

Below Werner fell a dizzy depth. Above him the rifle of one who had no
reason to spare. The double peril added the touch that makes craven
spirits desperate.

With a scream of mad fury he leaped to his feet and charged up the
loose sand of the grade. And Morani, suddenly conscious of where he
was, and of Werner's chance of escape, gripped his stiletto and dug his
toes into the pits Werner had made.

CHAPTER XXX

KOPPY PAYS

Koppy, under the impetus of the conference, set his mind more firmly to
the problem facing him. Under the present method of attack the outcome
was a question of endurance. And in endurance the disposition