He nodded almost imperceptibly, keeping his eyes on the figure which now stood within the shade of the trees in an attitude which might suggest listening, or perhaps merely a posture of alert repose. Evelyn's mouth still rested against his ear and her light breath fell warmly on him. Then presently her lips moved again: "Kay! He LOOKS safe." McKay turned his head with infinite caution and she inclined hers to his lips: "I think it is Gray. But we've got to be certain, Eve." She nodded. "He does look right," whispered McKay. "No Boche cradles a rifle in the hollow of his left arm so naturally. It is HABIT, because he does it in spite of a crippled left hand." She nodded again. "Also," whispered McKay, "everything else about him is convincing--the pack, tump-line, moccasins, Winchester: and his manner of moving.... I know deer-stalkers in Scotland and in the Alps. I know the hunters of ibex and chamois, of roe-deer and red stag, of auerhahn and eagle. This man is DIFFERENT. He moves and behaves like our own woodsmen--like one of our own hunters." She asked with dumb lips touching his ear: "Shall we chance it?" "No. It must be a certainty." "Yes. We must not offer him a chance." "Not a ghost of a chance to do us harm," nodded McKay. "Listen attentively, Eve; when he moves on, rise when I do; take the pigeon and the little sack because I want both hands free. Do you understand, dear?" "Yes." "Because I shall have to kill him if the faintest hint of suspicion arises in my mind. It's got to be that way, Eve." "Yes, I know." "Not for our own safety, but for what our safety involves," he added. She inclined her head in acquiescence. Very slowly and with infinite caution McKay drew from their holsters beneath his armpits two automatic pistols. "Help me, Eve," he whispered. So she aided him where he lay beside her to slip the pack straps over his shoulders. Then she drew toward her the little osier cage in which their only remaining carrier-pigeon rested secured by elastic bands, grasped the smaller sack with the other hand, and waited. They had waited an hour and more; and the figure of the stranger had moved only once--shifted merely to adjust itself against a supporting tree-trunk and slip the tump-line. But now the man was stirring again, cautiously resuming the forehead-straps. Ready, now, to proceed in whichever direction he might believe lay his destination, the strange man took the rifle into the hollow of his left arm once more, remained absolutely motionless for five full minutes, then, stirring stealthily, his moccasins making no sound, he moved into the forest in a half-crouching attitude. And after him went McKay with Evelyn Erith at his elbow, his sinister pistols poised, his eyes fixed on the figure which passed like a shadow through the dim forest light ahead.