along, crouching, half creeping,
his treasure now over his shoulder as he hurried to where the lagoon
widened towards the open lake.

Here he waited while the rain poured down drenchingly, gradually putting
out the fires that here had not the fierceness that had driven them in
from the westward. As soon as it was possible he stepped ashore, walking
as he thought towards the east and south. He was still trying to make
sure of his course and the rain was still coming down when he heard the
rattling of wagon wheels off to his right.

"Blame _me_!" he ejaculated. "What the--the--what can that be?"

Twilight was near, the air dim with falling rain, when a rough wagon,
drawn by two horses driven by one man whom he thought he knew, came in
sight. Before Murky could get out of view behind the sooty, smoking logs,
he himself was seen. Link Fraley had been urging his horses faster.
Before he could slow down the scowling face he had seen was gone, as Link
himself had told the others.

He felt sure that he knew that face, but being unacquainted with the
events at the clubhouse, already described, he was in too great haste to
reach the lake to stop and further investigate. So Link passed on while
Murky, now sure that he was headed wrongly, turned away.

In order to make greater haste he took the money, bills and all, from the
dilapidated bag, thrust it all inside the tow sack, and turning at last
to the course he had mistakenly thought he was following, he disappeared
within those slimy, sooty depths of the fire-ruined forest.

He plodded on, wondering at times if he was going right. Later in the
night it became cloudy and there were symptoms of more rain. Strange to
say, he did not reach any farms or houses or other signs of the railroad
which he felt sure must run in this direction. That is, if he had kept the
course previously laid out by himself.

As may be imagined, the going was not easy. The earth, at times strangely
swampy, grew more and more difficult to pursue. He wiped the sweat from
his head and neck more than once.

"Blame me!" he ejaculated. "Why don't I git somewhere? Looks like I've
travelled long enough and fur enough!"

When it began to rain again he was compelled to take off his one remaining
coat to wrap round the tow sack of money to keep it, at least, partially
dry.

"The bulk of this money is paper," he reflected. "Paper won't stand too
much wetting; not even gov'ment paper such as money is made of