Presently two shots came from the south. A pause; a rattle of shots from hastily emptied magazines. "G'wan down there, Dick!" said Clinch. "You'll be alone, Mike----" "Au' right. You do like I say; git along quick!" Berry walked southward a little way. He had turned very white under his tan. "Gol ding ye!" shouted Clinch, "take it on a lope or I'll kick the pants off'n ye!" Berry began to run, carrying his rifle at a trail. For half an hour there was not a sound in the forests of Drowned Valley except in the dead timber where unseen woodpeckers hammered fitfully at the ghosts of ancient trees. Always Clinch's little pale eyes searched the forest twilight in front of him; not a falling leaf escaped him; not a chipmunk. And all the while Clinch talked to himself; his lips moved a little now and then, but uttered no sound: "All I want God should do," he repeated again and again, "is to just let Quintana come _my_ way. 'Tain't for because he robbed my girlie. 'Tain't for the stuff he carries onto him.... No, God, 'tain't them things. But it's what that there skunk done to my Evie.... O God, be you listenin'? He _hurt_ her, Quintana did. That's it. He misused her.... God, if you had seen my girlie's little bleeding feet!---- _That's_ the reason.... 'Tain't the stuff. I can work. I can save for to make my Evie a lady same's them high-steppers on Fifth Avenoo. I can moil and toil and slave an' run hootch--hootch---- They wuz wine 'n' fixin's into the Bible. It ain't you, God, it's them fanatics.... Nobody in my Dump wanted I should sell 'em more'n a bottle o' beer before this here prohybishun set us all crazy. 'Tain't right.... O God, don't hold a little hootch agin me when all I want of you is to let Quintana----" The slightest noise behind him. He waited, turned slowly. Eve stood there. Hell died in his pale eyes as she came to him, rested silently in his gentle embrace, returned his kiss, laid her flushed, sweet cheek against his unshaven face. "Dad, darling?" "Yes, my baby----" "You're watching to kill Quintana. But there's no use watching any longer." "Have the boys below got him?" he demanded. "They got one of his gang. Byron Hastings is dead. Jim is badly hurt; Sid Hone, too,--not so badly----" "Where's Quintana?" "Dad, he's gone.... But it don't matter. See here!----" She dug her slender hand into her breeches' pocket and pulled out a little fistful of gems. Clinch, his powerful arm closing her shoulders, looked dully at the jewels. "You see, dad, there's no use killing Quintana. These are the things he robbed you of." "'Tain't them that matter.... I'm glad you got 'em. I allus wanted you should be a great lady, girlie. Them's the tickets of admission. You put 'em in your pants. I gotta stay here a spell----" "Dad! Take them!" He took them, smiled, shoved them into his pocket. "What is it, girlie?" he asked absently, his pale eyes searching the woods ahead.