wn at him somebody seen what had
happened and spread the word.

"I wasn't none too popular, bein' not much on talk, so the boys got
together and pretty soon they come pilin' through the door at me,
packin' everything from hatchets to crowbars.

"Lads, I was sorry about Scotchy, but after I glimpsed that gang comin'
I wasn't sorry for nothing. I felt like singin', though there wasn't
no song that could say just what I meant. But I grabbed up the big
fourteen-pound hammer and met 'em half-way.

"The first swing of the hammer it met something hard, but not as hard
as iron. The thing crunched with a sound like an egg under a heavy
man's heel. And when that crowd heard it they looked sick. God, how
sick they looked! They didn't wait for no second swing, but they beat
it hard and fast through the door with me after 'em. They scattered,
but I kept right on and didn't never really stop till I reached the
mountain-desert and you, Jim."

"Which is a good yarn," said Bud Mansie, "but I can tell you one that
'll cap it. It was----"

He stopped short, staring up at the door. Outside, the wind had kept
up a perpetual roaring, and no one noticed the noise of the opening
door. Bud Mansie, facing that door, however, turned a queer yellow and
sat with his lips parted on the last word. He was not pretty to see.
The others turned their heads, and there followed the strangest panic
which Pierre had even seen.

Jim Boone jerked his hand back to his hip, but stayed the motion, half
completed, and swung his hands stiffly above his head. Garry Patterson
sat with his eyes blinked shut, pale, waiting for death to come. Dick
Wilbur rose, tall and stiff, and stood with his hands gripped at his
sides, and Black Morgan Gandil clutched at the table before him and his
keen eyes wandered swiftly about the room, seeking a place for escape.

There was only one sound, and that was a whispering moan of terror from
Jacqueline. Only Pierre made no move, yet he felt as he had when the
black mass of the landslide loomed above him.

What he saw in the door was a man of medium size and almost slender
build. In spite of the patch of gray hair at either temple he was only
somewhere between twenty-five and thirty. But to see him was to forget
all details except the strangest face which Pierre had ever seen or
would ever look upon in all his career.

It was pale, with a pallor strange to the ranges; even the lips seemed
bloodless, and they