ow
came down upon it. The cave was dusky by now, so that the leaping
flames made strange shadows on the uneven rock walls. The whistle of
the wind had risen to a shriek.

Jack roused himself when the fire began to die; he stood up and looked
around him, and down at his ungainly clothes and heavy, high-cut shoes
laced over thick gray socks whose tops were turned down in a roll over
his baggy, dirt-stained trousers. He laughed without any sound of
mirth, thinking that this was the Jack Corey who had quarreled over
the exact shade of tie that properly belonged to a certain shade of
shirt; whose personal taste in sport clothes had been aped and
imitated by half the fellows he knew. What would they think if they
could look upon him now? He wondered if Stit Duffy would wag his head
and say "So-me cave, bo, so-me cave!"

Then his mind snapped back to Hank Brown with his hand clasping
Marion's arm in that leisurely climb to the trail. His black mood
returned, pressing the dead weight of hopelessness upon him. He might
as well settle the whole thing with a bullet, he told himself again.
After all, what would it matter? Who would care? Last night he had
thought instantly of Marion and his mother, and he had felt that two
women would grieve for him. Tonight he thought of Marion and cast the
thought away with a curse and a sneer. As for his mother--would his
mother care so very much? Had he given her any reason for caring,
beyond the natural maternal instinct which is in all motherhood? He
did not know. If he could be sure that his mother would grieve for
him--but he did not know. Perhaps she had grieved over him in the past
until she had worn out all emotions where he was concerned. He
wondered, and he wished that he knew.

CHAPTER TWENTY

IGNORANCE TAXES THE TRAIL OF DANGER

Mike, looking frequently over his shoulder, sought the sanctuary of
his own cabin, slammed the door shut and pulled the heavy table as a
barricade against it until he could find the hammer and some nails.
His hands shook so that he struck his thumb twice, but he did not seem
to notice the pain at all. When the door was nailed shut he pulled a
side off a box and nailed the two boards over the window. Then he
grabbed his rifle out of a corner and defied the spies to do their
worst, and hang him if they dared.

A long time he waited, mumbling there in the middle of the room, the
rifle pointed toward the door. Shadows flowed into the valley and
f