was never very robust; he could have connived and schemed over a
long period of years to despoil Betty of her property, he would
have counted this a legitimate field for enterprise; but murder
and abduction was quite another thing. He would wash his hands
of all further connection with Murrell, he had other things to
lose besides Belle Plain, and the present would be as good a time
as any to let the outlaw know he could be coerced and bullied no
longer. But he had a saving recollection of the way in which
Murrell dealt with what he counted treachery; an unguarded word,
and he would not dare to travel those roads even at broad
noon-day, while to pass before a lighted window at night would be
to invite death; nowhere would he be safe.

Three miles from Belle Plain he entered a bridle path that led
toward the river; he was now traversing a part of the Quintard
tract. Two miles from the point where he had quitted the main
road he came out upon the shores of a wide bayou. Looking across
this he saw at a distance of half a mile what seemed to be a
clearing of considerable extent, it was the first sign of human
occupation he had seen since leaving Belle Plain.

An impenetrable swamp defended the head of the bayou which he
skirted. Doubling back as though he were going to retrace his
steps to Belle Plain, finally he gained a position opposite the
clearing which still showed remotely across the wide reach of
sluggish water. Here he dismounted and tied his horse, then as
one tolerably familiar with the locality and its resources, he
went down to the shore and launched a dugout which he found
concealed in some bushes; entering it he pointed its blunt bow in
the direction of the clearing opposite. A growth of small timber