denser brush he broke through to
the bank of the river.

He faced a wide, shallow, muddy stream with brakes on the opposite bank
extending like a green and yellow wall. Duane perceived at a glance the
futility of his trying to cross at this point. Everywhere the sluggish
water raved quicksand bars. In fact, the bed of the river was all
quicksand, and very likely there was not a foot of water anywhere. He
could not swim; he could not crawl; he could not push a log across. Any
solid thing touching that smooth yellow sand would be grasped and sucked
down. To prove this he seized a long pole and, reaching down from the
high bank, thrust it into the stream. Right there near shore there
apparently was no bottom to the treacherous quicksand. He abandoned any
hope of crossing the river. Probably for miles up and down it would be
just the same as here. Before leaving the bank he tied his hat upon the
pole and lifted enough water to quench his thirst. Then he worked his
way back to where thinner growth made advancement easier, and kept on
up-stream till the shadows were so deep he could not see. Feeling around
for a place big enough to stretch out on, he lay down. For the time
being he was as safe there as he would have been beyond in the Rim Rock.
He was tired, though not exhausted, and in spite of the throbbing pain
in his arm he dropped at once into sleep.

CHAPTER XII

Some time during the night Duane awoke. A stillness seemingly so thick
and heavy as to have substance blanketed the black willow brake. He
could not see a star or a branch or tree-trunk or even his hand before
his eyes. He lay there waiting, listening, sure that he had been
awakened by an unusual sound. Ordinary noises of the night in the
wilderness never disturbed his rest. His faculties, like those of
old fugitives and hunted creatures, had become trained to a marvelous
keenness. A long low breath of slow wind moaned through the willows,
passed away; some stealthy, soft-footed beast trotted by him in the
darkness; there was a rustling among dry leaves; a fox barked lonesomely
in the distance. But none of these sounds had broken his slumber.

Suddenly, piercing the stillness, came a bay of a bloodhound. Quickly
Duane sat up, chilled to his marrow. The action made him aware of
his crippled arm. Then came other bays, lower, more distant. Silence
enfolded him again, all the more oppressive and menacing in his
suspense. Bloodhounds had been put on his tra