mysterious depths of the brooding forest. Nature could not contain
such language within her unsullied bosom, but returned it immediately
to the vile source from whence it came.

When Curly's rage had somewhat spent itself, he began to meditate upon
swift and dire revenge. But first of all he needed food, and
assistance from someone as base as himself. Big Draw could supply him
with the former, but he had no idea where he could find the latter. He
thought of Slim Fales, his recent companion. Him, however, he soon
dismissed from his mind as unsuitable. Slim had not suffered as he
had, and would not enter heartily into any proposal he might make.
And, besides, Slim had fled and left him to his fate. No, he must find
someone as desperate as himself upon whom he could thoroughly depend.

This feeling of revenge gave Curly new strength. He must reach Big
Draw, obtain food, and make whatever plans would be necessary. Once
more he headed for the valley, lying dark and sullen below. By
following this, he expected to reach the big creek on which the mining
camp was situated.

Arriving ere long at the bottom of the hill, he moved as fast as
possible down the creek. There was no trail to guide him, and it was
with much difficulty that he made his way through the forest, which was
here thick and scrubby. So painful did this at last become, that he
was forced to follow the little brook which flowed down the valley.
This, too, was rough, and at times he was compelled to walk in the
water. But there were no trees to bother him, so he accordingly made
better progress.

He had thus gone some distance when, rounding a bend in the creek, he
was surprised to see directly before him the light of a camp fire.
Hope at first leaped into his heart. Then he became cautious, for he
could not tell whether it was the stopping place of friend or foe.
Carefully now he advanced, and when near enough to recognize the face
of a man sitting before the blaze, he emitted a whoop, and rushed
forward.

At this startling sound from the grimness of the forest, the lone
camper started, seized his rifle, and leaped to his feet.

"Who are you?" he demanded. "Stop, or I'll shoot."

"It's only me," Curly hastened to reply, as he stepped forth, into the
circle of light. "Ye wouldn't shoot a friend, would ye, Dan?"

The latter lowered his rifle, and stared with undisguised surprise upon
his visitor.

"Well, fer the love of heaven!" he exclai