more jealous of him, Charley, than he was of the chief. Now he understood
all the prying efforts Lumley had made to learn the size of his pay. Quite
evidently Lumley could not endure to see another man get ahead. Charley
felt sure that it would not be safe for him to meet Lumley. He resolved
to be on his guard every second. Then he sighed with relief at the thought
that Lumley had fled.

But a moment later his face became very grave. "How do I know that Lumley
has fled?" he asked himself. "To go any distance, he would have to walk
along a highway, or ride in a motor-car, or board a train; and in any case
he might be seen and traced. On the other hand, Lumley knows the forest
like a book. He has lived in it for years. Where else could he so well
hope to elude pursuit?" Charley felt certain that Lumley must be somewhere
in the forest.

Immediately he got his rifle, filled the magazine, and stood it within
reach. He tried to read, but was too nervous. Then he thought of the open
windows and his light within the cabin. Any one could see through the
windows--or shoot through them. Charley put his flash-light in his pocket
and blew out his lamp. The evening was warm, and Charley opened the door
and sat down on the sill, leaning against the jamb of the door, and
cradling his rifle across his knees.

Soon his eyes became accustomed to the darkness. From where he sat,
Charley could look out over what seemed like infinite stretches of forest.
The moon had not yet risen, and the valleys below him were vast depths of
darkness. Mist floated above, partly obscuring the stars. A gentle breeze
was blowing up here on the mountain top, but Charley knew that down in the
valleys the air was like stagnant water. The whispering of the trees
around him was like the quiet breathing of a babe asleep, and the