falling in. And Winters' cave, if he
recalled aright the description, had an outlook over the bay.

He motioned Little Billy to hold the lantern, while he bent over to
inspect Ichi. A dim idea was at work in Martin's mind; not yet clear
cut, not yet a reasoned plan. It concerned Ichi. If only the little
wretch were not dead, or badly injured, as he feared. The man had lain
there so motionless; he seemed such an inanimate lump as Martin rolled
him over on his back.

But the fear was groundless. There was blood on Ichi's face from a
torn scalp, and a big lump on the side of his head. The hunchback felt
the lump, and cried, "Knocked out!" Immediately he added, "He's coming
around--or playing 'possum. His eyes! He isn't shot. I thought you
shot him; I saw the flash. But he's just knocked out--and waking up.
See his eyes! Frisk him. Not even a knife."

Ichi's lids were fluttering. Presently they drew back slowly, and the
man stared up at them. At first it was a vague, wavering,
uncomprehending stare. But after a moment, intelligence--and
fear--crept into the beady black eyes, and the gaze fastened upon the
two grim, white faces above. Ichi tried to raise his head, his body.
But Martin's hand was at his throat, and his knee upon his chest.

"He's alive!" exclaimed Martin, triumphantly. "Don't you see,
Billy--we can bargain----"

"Use him, or kill him," cried the cripple, savagely, and he cursed at
the prostrate man's face. "Drag him to his feet, Martin. Let's be
going. The way to Winters' cave--up here?"

With his clutch on Ichi's collar, Martin dragged him to his feet and
propped him against the wall. Ichi was groggy, but he kept his feet;
and he was plainly conscious, though he did not open his mouth. The
handcuffs which had chafed Martin's wrists for so many hours were still
dangling from his left arm. He slipped them off, and, with no gentle
hand, forced his prisoner's wrists together behind him and ironed them
tightly. Tit for tat, thought Martin; and he made certain that Ichi
would not wriggle his wrists through the steel clasps.

"Look here!" called Little Billy. "I had a hunch that shot hit
somebody. Look--up here!"

He held the lantern over his head, and its rays lighted the shelf
beneath the hole in the ceiling. On it was sprawled the body of a man.
It was a gruesome sight; the form seemed oddly shrunken and twisted,
one leg hung over the edge of the rock, the face was towards