Annabel, realizing that the Indian, despite his impassive countenance, threatened some horrible catastrophe, started up with a scream. Edgerton had already turned toward them; alarmed at sound of Gledware's terror. He bent to the oars, comprehending only that Annabel was in danger. "Edgerton!" she shrieked blindly. "Edgerton! Edgerton! Edgerton!" Gledware crouched at her feet, crying beseechingly, "I swear I have nothing--nothing! I sold everything--gave it away--left it--nothing in all the world! I'm willing to beg, to starve--I don't want to own anything--I only want to live--to live.... My God! TO LIVE..." Red Feather did not utter a word. But with the stealthy lightness and litheness of a panther, he stepped over the seat and moved toward Gledware. Then Gledware, pushed to the last extremity, despairing of the interposition of some miraculous chance, was forced back upon himself. With the vision of an inherent coward he saw all chances against him; but with the desperation of a maddened soul, he threw himself upon the defensive. Red Feather had not expected to see him offer resistance. This show of clenched teeth and doubled fists suddenly enraged him, and the old lust of vengeance flamed from his eyes. Hat and disguising coat were cast aside. For a moment his form, rigid and erect, gleamed like a statue of copper cut in stern relentless lines, and the single crimson feather in his raven locks matched, in gold, the silver brightness of his upraised blade. The next moment his form shot forward, his arm gripped Gledware about the neck, despite furious resistance, and both men fell into the water. The violent shock given to the boat sent Annabel to her knees. Clutching the side she gazed with horrified eyes at the water in her wake. The men had disappeared, but in the glowing white path cut across the lake by the sun, appeared a dull red streak that thinned away to faint purple and dim pink. She watched the sinister discoloration with fascinated eyes. What was taking place beneath the smooth tide? Or was it all over? Had Red Feather found a rock to which he could cling while he drowned himself with his victim? Or had their bodies been caught in the tangled branches of a submerged forest tree? It was one of the mysteries of the Ozarks never to be solved. She was still kneeling, still staring with frightened eyes, still wondering, when Edgerton Compton rowed up beside her. "He said he had nothing," she stammered, as he helped her to rise. "He said he had nothing.... How true it is!" Edgerton gently lifted her to his skiff, then stepped in beside her. He, too, was watching the water for the possible emergence of a ghastly face. Annabel began trembling as with the ague. "Edgerton!... He said it was all a lie--about his property--and so it was. Everything is a lie except--this..." She clung to him. CHAPTER XXVI JUST A HABIT