Around the valley he tramped, but no opening could he find in the encircling wall of cliffs, and soon he found himself back at the defile by which he had entered. Loth though he was to return to the valley of bones, there was nothing else to be done. So through the gorge he hurried, and stood once more, ere long, in the feeding ground of the vampires. He paused a while to consider his course, deciding at length to move along the base of the cliffs until he came to some gorge or pass which would lead him out of this weird valley. To this end he started off at a swinging stride, keeping a sharp look-out for vampires as he went. Before he had covered many yards a distant report broke upon his ears, followed by an explosion, which awoke every echo in the valley. At the sound, hope leapt into his heart. That first was surely the report of a rifle, which meant that his friends--whom he had deemed lost--were within a few miles of him. Instantly he started off at a run in the direction whence the sound had come. No further reports reached him, yet he did not doubt that he should be able to find his comrades. Occasionally he shouted as he ran on, hoping to attract their attention should they be anywhere within hearing. He took little heed to his steps as he went, tripping and stumbling among the scattered bones, but ever pressing forward. Had he been more cautious the accident that befel him might have been avoided. He was moving through a thick clump of fungi, when once more the report of a rifle echoed across the valley. At that he quickened his pace, raising his voice in a lusty shout as he did so. But there came no answering hail. His friends were as yet too far distant to hear his call. Then straining every muscle in his headlong race, he suddenly burst out of the fungi. Before him, almost at his feet, its placid surface unbroken by a single ripple, lay an eerie-looking pool. Its banks rose steeply from the water’s edge, making it impossible to note its presence until close upon it. Wilson, striving in vain to check himself, blundered over the brink and pitched with a splash into the water, eight feet below. He was a good swimmer, and, though unfortunate, the situation did not cause him the least uneasiness. His wounded arm was now healing rapidly, thanks to Garth’s attentions, so he anticipated little difficulty in escaping from the pool. With a couple of strokes he reached the bank, but failed to touch bottom. Evidently the pool was of considerable depth. Digging his fingers into the side, he commenced to claw his way up. He was almost clear of the water when the rotten earth crumbled beneath his clutch, and he fell backward, sousing clear under. “Hang it!” he gasped as he rose spluttering. “I must try another place.”