Page:The Pacific Monthly vol. 14.djvu/80

 in for it!"

Lacey's face lost its exultant expression. "That's so/' he mused; "I forgot about that. But it isn't likely that the warden'll ever know, is it?"

"He seen you was an Easterner, all right, an' I ain't got too good a reputation myself. Bet your boots he'll be a snoopin' around here by night. Well, there's only one thing to be done, an' I'm goin' down to camp after a shovel. You sit right there, an' don't let nobody come nigh here. If anyone does, p'int your gun at him. Might as well be a black ram while you're about it."

Bill went do^vn the hill, and Lacey sat and thought. The more he reflected, the more nervous he grew, until every noise in the woods above startled him. Once he imagined that he heard a horse nicker, and he promptly hid in a group of jagged boulders. The silence of the hills unmanned him. He was but a city clerk, after all, accustomed to the quiet monotony of his life, and an unreasoning sense of fear stole over him as the slow minutes went past. At last Bill returned, and together they went to where the deer lay.

"A doe," said Bill, as he scowled down at the carcass. "She's got a young un' in the bushes, a waitin' for its mammy to come home. That makes it a bigger fine. Here, grab a root on this shovel, an' we'll bury the brute."

Bill spat on his hands, swung a pick over his head, and went to work. It is not child's play to sink a pit among the boulders and rocks on a mountain side, but they finally succeeded in excavating a four-foot hole. "A grave," Lacey thought. How like murderers they were, sweating at their guilty task in the hot afternoon sun !

They had been so engrossed with the work that a man came unnoticed from the pines and stood not far distant from them. Their first knowledge of his presence was brought about by a hoarse chuckle, and the tools rattled from their hands as they wheeled upon the intruder. Bill swore, but Lacey turned white under his sun-rash, and became possessed of a wild, breathless terror.

"Mighty hot work," said the stranger, as he flung a rifle barrel across his left arm with a significant gesture, "couldn't a-taken more trouble if you'd shot a man."

Bill looked at the rifle, and then his eyes wandered over to where Lacey's gun stood against a rock. The warden grinned wickedly.

"This'll be mighty hard on you, Bill," he said. "It's the third offense, an' you'll get a heavy term for it, too."

"It were an accident," Bill growled. "This cub here shot it, thinkin it' were a bar. Ain't that so, kid?"

Lacey's teeth chattered, and he stared straight before him, seeing nothing but judges and juries, fines which he could not pay, and dismal prison cells. His eyes grew round and bloodshot, and his face turned to a mottled blue.

The warden looked at him and doubled up with mirth. This increased Lacey's terror, if anything could do that, and with a gasp he "turned loco," and sprang off among the pines. The warden's merriment left him, and he bounded after the fugitive, swinging his rifle into place as he ran. He fired, and the bullet sang over Lacey's head ; the second shot knocked his hat away. Then he turned, foaming like a terrified animal.

"Stand still, thar," the warden shouted. Lacey obeyed, but his pupils had contracted, and there was a new light in them — the red passion that one sees blaz- ing from the eyes of a cornered rat.

"Hold out your paws," the warden continued, as he jingled a pair of hand- cuffs. Lacey did so, and the gesture was followed by a flash of fire and a sharp report. The warden jumped back, clutched at his shirt, and fell; and then Lacey toppled over on him in a dead faint.

When he came to, his head and shirt were wet, and Bill stood by with an empty pail.

"Well," Bill remarked, "are you locoed yet?"

Lacey sat up and held his head. "What's the matter?" he asked. "I seem to remember — Oh, my God !" He sprang to his feet and glared about him, his eyes searching for something they could not find.