d. But it was not
guarded. This fact convinced him that MacDonald had been killed, and that
his enemies believed he was dead. If MacDonald had escaped, and they had
feared a possible pursuit, some one would have watched the bridge.

The trail was easy to follow now. Sand and grassy earth had replaced rock
and shale; he could make out the imprints of feet--many of them--and they
led in the direction of a piece of timber that apparently edged a valley
running to the east and west. The rumble of the torrent in the chasm grew
fainter as he advanced. A couple of hundred yards farther on the trail
swung to the left again; it took him around the end of a huge rock, and as
he appeared from behind this, his knife clutched in his hand, he dropped
suddenly flat on his face, and his heart rose like a lump in his throat.
Scarcely fifty yards above him was the camp of his enemies! There were two
tepees and piles of saddles and panniers and blankets about them, but not a
soul that he could see. And then, suddenly, there rose a voice bellowing
with rage, and he recognized it as Quade's. It came from beyond the tepee,
and he rose quickly from where he had thrown himself and ran forward, with
the tepee between him and those on the other side. Close to the canvas he
dropped on his knees and crawled out behind a pile of saddles and panniers.
From here he could see.

So near that he could almost have touched them were Joanne and Marie,
seated on the ground, with their backs toward him. Their hands were tied
behind them. Their feet were bound with pannier ropes. A dozen paces beyond
them were Quade and Mortimer FitzHugh.

The two men were facing each other, a yard apart. Mortimer FitzHugh's face
was white, a deadly white, and he was smiling. His right hand rested
carelessly in his hunting-coat pocket. There was a sneering challenge on
his lips; in his eyes was a look that Aldous knew meant death if Quade
moved. And Quade was like a great red beast ready to spring. His eyes
seemed bulging out on his cheeks; his great hands were knotted; his
shoulders were hunched forward, and his mottled face was ablaze with
passion. In that moment's dramatic tableau Aldous glanced about swiftly.
The men from the mountain had not returned. He was alone with Quade and
Mortimer FitzHugh.

Then FitzHugh spoke, very quietly, a little laughingly; but his voice
trembled, and Aldous knew what the hand was doing in the hunting-coat
pocket.

"You're excited, Bill