Every Man for Himself

by Herbert Joseph Moorhouse

The bullets clipped twigs from the trees as the three plunged into the woods.

"This way. Quick! Follow me, you fellows," cried Phil. He jumped a log and struck to the left at a sharp angle. "I know a place where we can stand them off—if we can make it."

They floundered on, barking their shins in the darkness that encompassed them beyond the circle of the bonfires. Behind them McIvor was hallooing to his scattered followers at the top of his lungs and cursing impotently between hollers as he poked about at the edge of the clearing.

The bedlam which had broken loose when Podmore was freed had trailed out to a scatter of noise in the distance. Far away the shrieks of the half-demented man of money still rose above the shouting and cat-calls, but they were growing less frequent and fainter. Podmore was making good time apparently. There was a lot of hallooing going on from one to another, while loud voices and laughter marked the return of stragglers who had dropped out of the chase.

With so many stumbling about in the dark Phil reckoned that the unavoidable snapping of dry sticks in their scramble through the undergrowth would pass unnoticed long enough to enable them to get well away. Once or twice they crouched in silence to allow groups of men to pass them; for Kendrick was now taking a course parallel to the tote road. Every little while he paused to listen for the fresh outbreak that would take place back at the camp as soon as Red McIvor had got enough of his men together to start an organized pursuit. He grinned presently as a chorus of hallooing flung wide upon the night to apprize those farthest away that something had gone wrong and to recall them. By this time, however, the three fugitives were almost within reach of their goal and could afford to slacken pace in favor of stealth.

The temporary refuge for which Phil was heading was a rocky elevation which rose not more than a stonesthrow from the logging road. It marked the end of a spur which jutted out from the ridge than ran toward Kinogama Falls. Some by-gone age of upheaval had thrust skyward a huge pillar of granite and the centuries had gathered about its base a rubble of boulders and earth in which the forest growths had taken root and spread up the slopes. On the top of this hill was a basin-like depression which made a natural rampart for defensive purposes and Phil had remarked as much on the day that he and Cristy Lawson had climbed to it. They had stood looking around at the huge broken slabs of granite and speculating upon the oddness of the formation, while their conversation had taken on an academic flavor as they discussed the nebular and glacial theories. They had discovered at the bottom of a great cleft in the rock, a spring of sparkling water, so cold that it was impossible to drink it without frequent pauses. They had named the place "The Saucer," had eaten their lunch there. He remembered how beautiful she had looked as she talked in carefree animation and he had taken her hand to pilot her among the rocks and—— That was just three days ago!

"Easy now, fellows," cautioned Phil in a whisper. "It's just a short climb, but watch your step. Give me your hand, Cork, and you take hold of Jimmy's. For the life of you don't dislodge any stones. They'd go down with a crash that could be heard a mile on a night like this."

They reached the top without this misfortune, however, and dropped behind the rocks with no little satisfaction.

"Now Jimmy, what's the meaning of all this?" demanded Phil. "Keep your voice down to a whisper. Podmore—what about him? And how in the mischief did these toughs get hold of you?"

It was only by the greatest effort that Stiles pulled himself together. The excitement of seeing friends and of the escape had keyed him to the required effort, but with the tension relaxed he was on the point of collapse. None too strong at any time, the terrible experiences of the past few days had weakened him greatly; he had had little to eat and the strain of the last twenty-four hours had exhausted him. He covered his face with his hands and shook as with an ague.