he reflected. The clubhouse would burn. If Grandall, dead
or unconscious, burned with it--Murky's smile was hideous.

For some time he watched the progress of the fire, yet in the distance.
But presently he became aware that the daylight was near. It was time for
him to act.

Stealthily Murky crept to the broken window at the west side of the
clubhouse and entered. He knew the first floor doors were locked, but
he did not know that Grandall had secured his bedroom door. This he
discovered in due time. Just outside the room he listened. Sounds of
heavy breathing assured him his victim slept.

It took a good while for Murky's heavy knife to cut in a panel of the pine
door a hole large enough to permit him to reach in and turn the key; for
he worked very slowly, very quietly. The daylight was coming in at the
window of the narrow hallway when his task was done--the daylight, the
dull glare of the advancing flames and the sound of their roar and fury.

The door creaked slightly as ever so slowly its hinges were moved, but
in another second Murky stood inside.

The man on the bed awoke--leaped to his feet--saw--recognized--gave forth
a yell the like of which even the wildest places have seldom heard.

Instantly Grandall knew his danger. Seizing the leather case, for whose
stolen contents he had risked so much, he threw open the balcony window.
In another moment he would have leaped to the ground below but Murky
caught him and they grappled.

It was in the midst of this first fierce struggle that the two were seen
by those on the raft. Murky's greater strength was fast overpowering the
other's soft muscles. Grandall breathed in choking gasps.

Then came the shouted warning from the lake. For an instant the surprise
of it caused the tramp to relax his hold, but only for an instant.

"Blame _me_!" like some wild beast he growled, though there was savage
delight in his tones as well, "Blame _me_! but I'd as soon leave my bones
here as anywhere, to see you get what's comin' to ye, you lyin' skunk!" He
fairly hissed the epithet in Grandall's ear.

It was at this juncture that Murky first drew his panting adversary back
into the flaming clubhouse. Grandall knew he was no match for his enemy
in strength.

"Wait, you fool!" he gasped. "There's a fortune for you--ease--luxury!
Take it! I'll add as much more to it!"

As the lying wretch hoped, Murky's wild thoughts were for the moment
attracted by the words. His grip upon