orture because knows it is folly to attempt to escape.

"You are a human devil!" Donnegan said at last, and sank back upon his
stool. For a moment he was overcome, his head falling upon his breast,
and even when he looked up his face was terribly pale, and his eyes
dull. His expression, however, cleared swiftly, and aside from the
perspiration which shone on his forehead it would have been impossible
ten seconds later to discover that the blow of the colonel had fallen
upon him.

All of this the colonel had observed and noted with grim satisfaction.
Not once did he speak until he saw that all was well.

"I am sorry," he said at length in a voice almost as delicate as the
voice of Lou Macon. "I am sorry, but you forced me to say more than I
wished to say."

Donnegan brushed the apology aside.

His voice became low and hurried. "Let us get on in the matter. I am
eager to learn from you, colonel."

"Very well. Since it seems that there is a place for both our interests
in this matter, I shall run on in my tale and make it, as I promised you
before, absolutely frank and curt. I shall not descend into small
details. I shall give you a main sketch of the high points; for all men
of mind are apt to be confused by the face of a thing, whereas the heart
of it is perfectly clear to them."

He settled into his narrative.

"You have heard of The Corner? No? Well, that is not strange; but a few
weeks ago gold was found in the sands where the valleys of Young Muddy
and Christobel Rivers join. The Corner is a long, wide triangle of sand,
and the sand is filled with a gold deposit brought down from the
headwaters of both rivers and precipitated here, where one current meets
the other and reduces the resultant stream to sluggishness. The sands
are rich--very rich!"

He had become a trifle flushed as he talked, and now, perhaps to cover
his emotion, he carefully selected a cigarette from the humidor beside
him and lighted it without haste before he spoke another word.

"Long ago I prospected over that valley; a few weeks ago it was brought
to my attention again. I determined to stake some claims and work them.
But I could not go myself. I had to send a trustworthy man. Whom should
I select? There was only one possible. Jack Landis is my ward. A dozen
years ago his parents died and they sent him to my care, for my fortune
was then comfortable. I raised him with as much tenderness as I could
have shown my own son; I lavished on