Berry began to run, carrying his rifle at a trail.
For half an hour there was not a sound in the forests of Drowned Valley except in the dead timber where unseen woodpeckers hammered fitfully at the ghosts of ancient trees.
Always Clinch's little pale eyes searched the forest twilight in front of him; not a falling leaf escaped him; not a chipmunk.
And all the while Clinch talked to himself; his lips moved a little now and then, but uttered no sound:
"All I want God should do," he repeated again and again, "is to just let Quintana come my way. 'Tain't for because he robbed my girlie. 'Tain't for the stuff he carries onto him. … No, God, 'tain't them things. But it's what that there skunk done to my Evie. … O God, be you listenin'? He hurt her, Quintana did. That's it. He misused her. … God, if you had seen my girlie's little bleeding feet!—— That's the reason. … 'Tain't the stuff. I can work. I can save for to make my Evie a lady same's them high-steppers on Fifth Avenoo. I can moil and toil and slave an' run hootch — hootch—— They wuz wine 'n' fixin's into the Bible. It ain't you, God, it's them fanatics. … Nobody in my Dump wanted I should sell 'em more'n a bottle o' beer before this here prohybishun set us all crazy. 'Tain't right. … O God, don't hold a little hootch agin me when all I want of you is to let Quintana——"
The slightest noise behind him. He waited, turned slowly. Eve stood there.
Hell died in his pale eyes as she came to him, rested silently in his gentle embrace, returned his kiss, laid her flushed, sweet cheek against his unshaven face.
"Dad, darling?"
"Yes, my baby—-"
"You're watching to kill Quintana. But there's no use watching any longer."