"Foster Fairfax!" he shouted, with savage joy; "at last we are face to face!"
CHAPTER XXX.
SEARCH FOR THE TRAIL.
"Preston March!"
The man who had just stepped out of the tent fell back, a look of astonishment, not unmingled with fear, on his face.
"Yes, Preston March!" cried the Hermit. "You know me, and I know you, treacherous friend, base scoundrel that you are!"
The man called Foster Fairfax lifted his hands, as if to ward off a blow.
"Preston, it was a mistake—a fearful mistake."
"For you—yes! I have sworn by the heavens above to have your life if fate ever threw you across my path. I shall keep that oath!"