Abington at that time had been searching out and recording with a camera all the ancient rock carvings along the river. While Bill’s feet were healing he had wanted to know all about the various symbols and their meanings. He had told Abington of two or three cañons where writings could be found, and he had discussed with Abington the possibility of finding petrified human remains-- “By Jove!” Abington ejaculated, straightening suddenly in his chair. “I wonder if that is not what he means! That we’ll both journey to a spot in the mountains where I can find my fossilized man!” The idea once implanted in his mind, Abington could not seem to get rid of it. Without a doubt, that was the meaning Bill had meant to convey; that he had found the fossil man which would mean more to Abington than a gold mine--for such is the peculiar point of view held by scientists of a certain school. “Told him that mummy symbol indicated a burial--remember we discussed it. He recognized the sign from having seen one on a rock. I told him it undoubtedly meant that some one had been buried there. H’m! Nothing else he could mean. Wasn’t sitting in that car drawing marks for fun. Couldn’t write a message. Afraid Park might pick up the case, no doubt. Too bad--handicapped too heavily. Never will make it.” Nevertheless Abington loitered for four days in Tonopah, though he had no business to hold him there. He heard nothing of an escaped convict being captured in that part of the country, so finally went his way. He had meant to hire more men and carry his explorations over into Utah, but the sporting instinct for once prevailed over scientific zeal. He still believed that Bill would never make it--that the “chain of evil” was too strong. But being an archaeologist, he had learned the sublime lesson of a patient, plodding persistence that simply ignores failure. Abington returned alone to a field already pretty thoroughly covered, and rëestablished his old camp by the river. There he sat himself down to wait, with a brooding patience not unlike the eternal hills that hemmed him in. CHAPTER III--ON THE JUMP Into the firelight Bill Jonathan came walking one evening, barely within the month he had given himself in the symbolic message. Face drawn and sallow, eyes staring out from under his hat brim with a glassy dullness born of hunger, fever and fatigue mingled, perhaps, with that never-sleeping fear which dogs the soul of the hunted. But none of this showed in his manner, nor in his greeting which gave the arrival a casual note. “Hello, professor! Got my message, I see. Well, I had one merry heck of a trip, but here I am.” He dropped down where he could lean against Abington’s favorite camp boulder--lean there at ease or crawl swiftly out of sight behind the broken ledge, Abington observed with that negligent, flicking glance of his. Another glance dropped briefly to Bill’s ankles, and Bill laughed wryly.