Maget, drinking beside his partner, saw that the water glinted and sparkled, though the sun was below the opposite rim of the valley. It seemed that greenish, silvery specks danced in the milky fluid. "Boy, that's good," Durkin finally found time to say, "I feel like I could fight a wildcat." The water did, indeed, impart a feeling of exhilaration to the two tramps. They crept up close to the roof of the parallel shaft which they had seen from the other side of the valley, and looked down into the camp again. Professor Gurlone of the livid face and Espinosa the blind Portuguese, were talking to a big man whose golden beard shone in the last rays of the sun. "That's the old bird's son," said Durkin, "that Juan told us about. Young Gurlone." A rumbling, pleasant laugh floated on the breeze, issuing from the big youth's throat. The wind was their way, now, and the valley breathed forth an unpleasant odor of chemicals and tainted meat. "Funny place," said Maget. "Say, I got a hell of a headache, Bill." "So've I," grunted Durkin. "Maybe that water ain't as good as it seemed at first." * * * * * They lay in a small hollow, watching the activity of the camp. The peons were in their pen, and it was evident that they were being watched by the owners of the camp. As purple twilight fell across the strange land, the two tramps began to notice the dull sounds which came to their ears from time to time. "That's funny thunder," said Maget nervously. "If I didn't know it was thunder, I'd swear some big frogs were around here." "Oh, hell. Maybe it's an earthquake," said Durkin irritatedly. "For God's sake, quit your bellyachin'. You've done nothin' but whine ever since we left Juan." "Well, who could blame me--" began Maget. He broke off suddenly, the pique in his voice turned to a quiver of fear, as he grasped Durkin's arm. "Oh, look," he gasped. Durkin, seeing his partner's eyes staring at a point directly behind him, leaped up and scrambled away, thinking that a snake must be about to strike him. He turned round when he felt he was far enough away, and saw that the ground was moving near the spot where he had been lying. The earth was heaving, as though ploughed by a giant share; a blunt, purplish head, which seemed too fearful to be really alive, showed through the broken ground, and a worm began to draw its purple length from the depths. It was no snake, but a gigantic angleworm, and as it came forth, foot after foot, the two watched with glazed eyes. Maget swallowed. "I've seen 'em two feet long," he said. "But never like that." Durkin, however, when he realized that the loathsome creature could not see them and was creeping blindly towards them with its ugly, fat body creasing and elongating, picked up rocks and began to destroy the monstrous worm. He cursed as he worked.