Quintana's dark, tense face was expressionless when Leverett ventured to look at him. Like most liars he realised the advisability of looking his victim straight in the eyes. This he managed to accomplish, sustaining the cold intensity of Quintana's gaze as long as he deemed it necessary. Then he started toward his rifle. Quintana blocked his way. "Where my packet?" "Gol ram it! Ain't I told you? Jake had it in his pocket." "My packet?" "Yaas, yourn." "My packet, it is down in thee sink 'ole?" "You think I'm lyin'?" blustered Leverett, trying to move around Quintana's extended arm. The arm swerved and clutched him by the collar of his flannel shirt. "Wait, my frien'," said Quintana in a soft voice. "You shall explain to me some things before you go." "Explain what! -- you gol dinged----" Quintana shook him into speechlessness. "Listen, my frien'," he continued with a terrifying smile, "I mus' ask you what it was, that gun-shot, which I hear while I await at Drown' Vallee. Eh? Who fire a gun?" "I ain't heard no gun," replied Leverett in a strangled voice. "You did not shoot? No?" "No! -- damn it all----" "And Jake? He did not fire?" "No, I tell yeh----" "Ah! Someone lies. It is not me, my frien'. No. Let us examine your rifle----" Leverett made a rush for the gun; Quintana slung him back against the oak tree and thrust an automatic pistol against his chin. "Han's up, my frien'," he said gently, "-- up! high up! -- or someone will fire another shot you shall never hear. ... So! ... Now I search the other pocket. ... So! ... Still no packet. Bah! Not in the pants, either? Ah, bah! But wait! Tiens! What is this you hide inside your shirt----?" "I was jokin'," gasped Leverett; "-- I was jest a-goin' to give it to you----" "Is that my packet?" "Yes. It was all in fun; I wan't a-going to steal it----" Quintana unbuttoned the grey wool shirt, thrust in his hand and drew forth the packet for which Jake Kloon had died within the hour. Suddenly Leverett's knees gave way and he dropped to the ground, grovelling at Quintana's feet in an agony of fright: "Don't hurt me," he screamed, "-- I didn't mean no harm! Jake, he wanted me to steal it. I told him I was honest. I fired a shot to scare him, an' he tuk an' run off! I wan't a-goin' to steal it off you, so help me God! I was lookin' for you -- as God is my witness----" He got Quintana by one foot. Quintana kicked him aside and backed away. "Swine," he sad, calmly inspecting the whimpering creature who had started to crawl toward him. He hesitate, lifted his automatic, then, as though annoyed by Leverett's deafening shriek, shrugged, hesitated, pocket both pistol and packet, and turned on his heel. By the birch sapling he paused and picked up Leverett's rifle. Something left a red smear on his palm as he worked the ejector. It was blood.