ain and his
head drooped.

The moonbeam had moved some distance when he opened his eyes and
straightened his body with a jerk. The room was nearly dark, and when he
thought about it afterwards, he imagined he was only half awake, for his
heart beat and he was conscious of an enervating fear. A dark object,
indistinct but like a man, stood beside the coffin.

With something of an effort, Kit recovered his self-control as the figure
turned and came towards him. It moved with a curious stealthy gait,
making no noise, and this was enough for Kit. He had no grounds for
distrusting the sailors, and they wore heavy boots. Trying not to change
his position, he felt for his automatic pistol. The butt caught a fold of
his sash and he was forced to bend his elbow in order to get it out. It
looked as if he would be too late, and he slipped as the movement
dislodged the rubbish on which he sat. Then, as he shrank with an
instinctive quiver from the prick of the knife, the figure swerved and
leaped back.

Kit threw up the pistol and pulled the trigger. There was a flash that
dazzled his eyes and a little smoke curled up, but when he leaned forward
his antagonist had gone. He heard no movement when he sprang to his feet
and almost imagined he had been dreaming, until the sailors shouted and
their boots rattled on the broken floor. They ran in and when Kit told
them what had happened went to the hole in the wall.

The moonlight touched the front of the building and part of the road was
bright, but the shadow of the forest had crept across the rest. All was
very quiet; there was no sound in the gloom. Then a flake of plaster fell
close behind Kit's head and a sharp report rolled across the trees. One
of the men shot at a venture and two of his companions ran savagely along
the road, until Kit called them back.

"Come in," he said when they returned. "You're a plain mark in the
moonlight and can't see the other fellow among the trees."

"Looks as if it was you he wanted," one replied. "Well, I guess we have
no use for being left without a boss, and since we don't like our
camping ground, you have got to come with us. We'll draw cuts for who's
to watch."

Kit went with them. He felt shaken, for the man who had brought down the
plaster was obviously a good shot. He imagined it was another who had
intended to stab him; in fact, a number of his enemies might be lurking
about. He was not, as a rule, vindictive, but the stealthy attack