Even though the going became easier, I felt more tired than before. The rarefied air sharpened the sense of fatigue and a tightness clutched at my chest. But I forgot all about it when I saw the grave. I spotted it even before Johnny Eagle cried out. The grave lay exposed in a bare patch above a clump of stunted timber; a tilted rotting cross was its only marking. The almost unhoped-for discovery of this meager clue to the location of Chetzisky infused me with new energy. My tiring legs revived. Johnny Eagle was hard put to stay ahead of me. On the bare rock shoulder of the granite bastion between the Twin Peaks we came upon a trail. My pace redoubled. Johnny Eagle stared at me in frank admiration and yielded me the lead. The trail headed straight for the blank, inaccessible face of the ridge. But as we drew near the sheer wall high up near its rim, a cleft appeared, through which the trail led. The defile was narrow, shrinking at times to the width of a man. Suddenly the walls fell away and we found ourselves on the narrow strand of a crater lake. In its center the dark mass of an island stood out under the starlight. I strained for some sign of habitation but the wooded isle remained inscrutable. We began scouting around the lake. About twenty feet from the defile entrance Johnny Eagle discovered a canoe hidden in a crevice of the crater wall. I decided against using it to reach the island. Chances of approaching unseen in it were too slim. Besides, the theft of the canoe would reveal our presence. We couldn't afford that risk with Chetzisky playing God. We would swim out, I decided. But first we went along the shore to reconnoiter the shortest route and in doing so we spied the clearing on the island. I could make out a cabin and a long, slanting structure resembling a ramp. This was it, I was sure. "Johnny, get back to the plane and have the pilot radio Colonel Armstrong that I've found Chetzisky. Give him all the necessary information." 5 I waited till Johnny Eagle had melted away and then, making my .45 as waterproof as I could, I slid into the lake. It was a short swim to the island--fifty yards or so--but I was pretty well exhausted when I dragged myself out of the water. The cold air knifed into my back and shoulder blades. It was welcome relief to crawl into the shelter of the undergrowth and rest a while. With some of my strength back, I pushed on cautiously through the bushes and tightly-packed trees. The first washings of dawn now appeared in the sky. It was the beginning of the day that Chetzisky had chosen for the world to die.