“Then why are they turning back?” said the detective. “There, abreast of us between those two rocks....”
Clement and the driver swung their eyes to the left. Between the two rocks, distantly, they saw the glow of automobile lamps. They shone steadily. Then the rocks hid them as they moved. Without a word the men in the bogged car sat staring into the darkness, searching it for those glowing lights. They came again from behind a rock. Now they were well to the rear. The significance of those lights was unmistakable.
“They’ve circled,” said Clement.
“You’re damn right,” said the driver angrily. “They’re heading to cut the trail behind. They’re going to make Cobalt again by the same road.”
Before he could say another word Clement was out of the car. He plunged desperately, slime or no slime. He went down over his knees in the viscid stuff. He jumped forward. He found a shelf of rock, strode off it, again up to his knees. He went on. He slipped and half fell in a deeper pocket, and with the effort of recovery found himself on ground that was but shin deep. He plunged forward, and a bush whipped his faces. He was on solid ground at once.
He ran back along the trail until he met the face of the rock where the turn had been so disastrous to them. At this he sprang, clambering upwards. It was a hard, steep climb, but he was glad of it. The higher it was, the more commanding a position it would give him. He knew he was at the summit by the sudden sight of the departing car lights he obtained. But even as he scrambled erect those lights disappeared, leaving a faint, moving glow only.
Clement followed that steadily with his eyes. Then as the lights abruptly flamed into view, his hand went up, and the automatic pistol in it spoke and spoke again. As he fired, the lights disappeared, and he wondered if he had hit. They came again, and again he fired. He emptied his clip and jerked out an exclamation of anger as he reached into his pocket for a fresh magazine. As he did that, the lights vanished once more.
He heard a man panting by his side, and the detective Gatineau’s voice said, “Too far and too dark for fine shooting, Mr. Seadon, I’m afraid. Also it’s quite illegal.”
And even as he said that, his own automatic was pumping off, to be joined at least ten seconds later by the snap of Clement’s pistol.