and Blue Pete feverishly tore away the brush and
leaves, he realised with a pang of shame and alarm how he had been
outwitted. The rifles had been removed armful by armful. And armful
by armful they had been hidden, each in its own hiding place. There
was no common cache to rob, no possibility now of laying hands on the
lot.

In deep dejection the halfbreed returned to the cave with his burden.
Mira met him at the door without even a murmur of surprise. And as he
dumped the load noisily on the stone floor, she pointed to another
little pile in a distant niche.

"They've beat us, Pete. It was Werner I trailed. I just banged him
over the head with a stick and he dropped everything and bolted."

And Blue Pete chuckled. He could see only one picture: Werner, running
and tumbling through the forest, squealing with more fright than pain,
preparing as he ran a tall story for his leader.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE SCHEMES OF A LEADER

Ignace Koppowski, lazily rolling a cigarette, stood before his shack on
the hill, apparently absorbed in the camp scene at his feet. In
reality he was watching Torrance and Conrad watching him from the shack
beside the trestle. After a time he returned inside, picked up his hat
from the bunk and, rolling another cigarette, strolled out, pulling the
door behind him.

From the shaded side of the hut he put his fingers to his nose and
waggled them in the direction of the grade, then he climbed back
through the window. Inside, every vestige of impudence deserted him.
A grave frown puckered his forehead as he seated himself thoughtfully
on the solitary chair to sit like a statue staring at the floor.
Certain sudden twistings of his clumsy frame revealed the vagrant
meanderings of his mind, now satisfied and determined, now uncertain
and reflective. Plainly it was a mind that refused to settle.

Thus he missed the first three low taps on the wall of his hut. When
it was repeated he jerked his head nervously, stared for an appreciable
moment at an upper corner of the room, gripped his fists and teeth, and
whispered a soft response.

Werner's head appeared in the window space, smiled, pushed through,
followed by a scrambling body. After him came Morani, Heppel, and
eighteen villainous-looking companions. Werner, first to enter, as
usual, selected the bunk, throwing himself on it with a cunning smile.
He always thought too quickly for the others. His companions littered
the floor,