I-XII

He stumbled hastily down the stairway, and
found the narrow porch, the serene, enveloping
night; down the street lamps
made blots of brightness, but, beyond, the obscurity
was profound, unbroken. Wave after wave of
nausea swept over him, he clung to a porch support
with cold sweat starting through the blood that
smeared his countenance, stiffened in his shirt, that
was warm upon his side. The sound of footfalls,
sharp, repressed voices from above, stirred him into a
fresh realization of his precarious position. The
gamblers would follow him, rob him with impunity
in the shadows of Sprucesap's lawless street, drag
him behind the angle of a building, where Jake
would have ample scope for the swinging of his
leathered lead...

He lurched down to the street, and silently merged
into the awaiting night.

At dawn he appeared from a thicket, a mile beyond
Sprucesap on the road to Greenstream, and
negotiated successfully a ride on a load of fragrant
upland hay to a point within a few miles of his des-

[[69]]

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v?