"I ain't lyin'. Look at his foot-marks there in the mud!"
"Quintana?"
"Yaas, Quintana! He tuk my gun, too——"
"Which way!" whispered Hal Smith fiercely, shaking Leverett till his haws wagged.
"Drowned Valley. … Lemme loose! — I'm chokin'——-"
Smith pushed him aside.
"You rat," he said, "if you're lying to me I'll come back and settle your affair. And Kloon's, too!"
"Quintana shot Jake and stuck him into a sink-hole!" snivelled Leverett, breaking down and sobbing: "— oh, Gawd — Gawd — he's down under all that black mud with his brains spillin' out——"
Bu Smith was already gone, running lightly along the string of footprints which led straight away across slime and sphagnum toward the head of Drowned Valley.
In the first clump of hard-wood trees Smith saw Quintana. He had halted an he was fumbling at the twine which bound a flat, paper-wrapped packet.