y, looking on with half-angry, wholly anxious eyes. His expression
was characteristic of the man when he was disturbed. Father Adam's dark
eyes were surveying his outfit. There was no emotion in them. They were
calm, and simply searching, in the fashion of the practised trail man.

"Say, Les, this is just the craziest thing of all your crazy life," Bat
said at last, in a tone kept low for all the feeling that lay behind it.
"I tell you they're waiting on you. They've got you set. Just as sure as
God this'll be your last trip. It's kind of useless talkin' it again out
here, I know. We've talked an' talked it in that darn sick room of yours
till I'm sick to death trying to git sense into you. We know the game
from A to the hindmost letter of the darn alphabet. We haven't shouted
it, you an' me, because there wasn't need. But Idepski's been right here
since ever he got his nose on your trail. It was his gun that took you
weeks back, an' sent you sick. If I know a thing he meant just to wing
you, and leave you kind of helpless, so he could get hands on you when
he fancied. He wants you alive, and he's goin' to git you. Ther's word
got round you're pulling out. It's clear to me. A bunch of boys hit the
trail out of here three nights gone, and I've a notion Idepski went with
'em. Are they wise you're pulling out? Sure they are. Why, in God's
name, don't you quit it?"

The man whom the forest world knew as Father Adam, but whom Bat knew as
Leslie Standing, shrugged his shoulders.

"Why should I?" he said, his dark eyes mildly enquiring, "you can't
tell me a thing I don't know about Idepski. I knew it was he who dropped
me. I saw him that night down there and knew him right away. Maybe he
can fool you with his disguises. He can't fool me. I'd been watching him
days before that."

"Why didn't you show yourself? Why didn't you say?"

Bat spoke fiercely in his exasperation.

The missionary smiled.

"You'd have had him shot up," he said. "I know. No. If you'd known I was
around it would have queered the hand I was playing. Here, Bat, let's
get this thing right. You could shoot up a dozen Idepskis, and there'd
be others to replace 'em. Hellbeam's dogs'll never let up." He shook his
head. "It's a play that'll go on to the--end. I know that. I tell you
I've got past caring a curse about things. When the end comes, what does
it matter! Not a thing. It's useless talking, old friend," he said, as
Bat attempted to break in, "quite