Warner shrugged. He had no reason to doubt Walz’ statement.
“You may regret destroying the map,” he observed. “A memory sometimes proves faulty.”
“Not mine,” Walz boasted. “I’ll find that gold, and it will be mine—all mine!”
“You’re loco,” Warner retorted. “We ought to heave you out of here, but we’ll be generous—a weakness you wouldn’t understand.”
The Scouts made room for the motel owner near the fire. He had not feigned exhaustion. Almost at once he fell into a deep sleep.
“He should make no trouble tonight,” Warner said contemptuously. “Tomorrow may be a different story.”
Once more the Scouts turned in for the night. Again Jack slept, though fitfully. At times he imagined Walz was stirring. Always it was his fancy. Then again, he imagined he heard a noise outside the cabin.
Actually, it was toward morning when he awoke with a start. His imagination again?
Suddenly he knew that it was not. He felt smothered, suffocated.
Starting up, he began to cough and choke. The cabin was filled with smoke!