“Who’s that hollerin’ up there? Thought you said you was alone here. What does that feller want?” James Blaine Hawkins left the Ford and started after Gary. “Beg pardon?” While the Voice continued to shout, Gary looked inquiringly at Hawkins. “I asked yuh who was hollerin’ up there! What does he want?” Gary continued to look at James Blaine Hawkins. “Hollering?” His eyes narrowed a bit. “On the bluff, did you say?” “Not over on _that_ bluff,” James Blaine Hawkins bellowed. “Up there, across the creek! Good Lord, are yuh deef? Can’t yuh hear that hollering?” Gary half turned his head and listened carefully. “Can you still hear it?” he asked in the midst of a loud halloo. “You must be deef if _you_ don’t,” James Blaine Hawkins spluttered. Gary shook his head. “My hearing is splendid,” he stated calmly. “I was a wireless operator on a sub-chaser during the war. Do you still hear it?” James Blaine Hawkins testified profanely that he did. He was looking somewhat paler than was normal. He stared at Gary anxiously. “What was that damfool yarn you was telling last night----” “Oh, about the Indian that heard some one hollering on the bluff after Steve Carson disappeared? By Jove! I wonder if it can be the _Voice_ you hear!” He looked at Hawkins blankly. “Say, I’m sorry I slapped you, Mr. Hawkins. I’d like to feel--afterwards--that you didn’t hold any grudge against me for that.” He held out his hand with the pitying smile of one who wishes to make amends before it is too late. James Blaine Hawkins swallowed twice. Gary set down the bucket and laid a hand kindly on the man’s shoulder. “Aw, buck up, Mr. Hawkins. I--I guess they lied about that Injun dying right after--don’t you believe it, anyway.” And then, anxiously, “Do you still hear it, old fellow?” Gary felt absolutely certain that James Blaine Hawkins did hear. Above the sound of the wind in the tree tops, the Voice was calling imperiously from the bluff. “You can keep the damn place for all of me,” James Blaine Hawkins exploded viciously. “I wouldn’t have it as a gift. There’s that damned cat I seen last night! A man’s crazy that’d think of staying in a hole like this.” He was cranking furiously when Gary tapped him on the shoulder. “Since you aren’t going to stay and fulfill the contract,” Gary said evenly, “you better hand over that two hundred dollars which Miss Connolly advanced you under the ‘found’ clause of your agreement. I’ll give you a receipt for it, of course.” James Blaine Hawkins meant to refuse, but Gary’s fingers slid up to his ear and pulled him upright. “We’ll just go in the cabin where I can write that receipt,” he explained cheerfully, and led James Blaine Hawkins inside. “You’re in a hurry to go, and I’m in a hurry to have you. So we’ll make this snappy.”