The great pines towered on every side, lofty and smooth to the feathery canopy that crowned them under the high stars.
There was no game here, no water, nothing to attract anybody except the devastating lumberman. But this was a five thousand acre patch of State land. The ugly whine of the stream-saw would never be heard here.
On he walked at an easy, swinging stride, flashing his torch rarely, feeling no concern about discovery by Quintana's people.
It was only when he came into the hardwoods that the combined necessity for caution and torch perplexed and worried him.
Somewhere in here began an outcrop of rock running east for miles. Only stunted cedar and berry bushes found shallow nourishment on this ridge.
When at last he found it he travelled upon it, more slowly, constantly obliged to employ the torch.
After an hour, perhaps, his feet splashed in shallow water. That was what he was expecting. The water was only an inch or two deep; it was ice cold and running north.
Now, he must advance with every caution. For here trickled the thin flow of that rocky rivulet which was the other entrance and exit penetrating that immense horror of marsh and bog and depthless sink-hole known as Drowned Valley.
* * * * *
For a long while he did not dare to use his torch; but now he was obliged to.