The Valley of Silent Men

ived. In the end he decided that it had, and with Kent's fifty dollars in his pocket he made for the shack of the old Indian trailer, Mooie. It was an hour later when he returned, just in time to

hich he had passed, Kent sat bolstered against his

superior officer. I am, I take it, no longer a member of the force. That being the case, I owe you no more respect

ds clenched slowly, it turned redder.

e was an inclination on their part to believe, you killed it-not honestly and squarely, by giving me a chance. Whenever you saw a chance for me to win a point, you fell back upon the law. And you don't believe that I killed John Barkley. I know it. You called me a liar

d hard as a rock as he

girl hiding up at yo

st. And yet, except that his faced burned more dully red, the Inspector was as impassively calm as ever. Even Kent's intimation that he was playing a game, and his direct accusation that he was keeping Marette Radisson in hidin

is incredible, because of our previous association, that I should not make every effort to save you. I would, if I thought you were innocent. But I don't. I believe you are guilty.

nty years of prison ahead of you for the worst kind of perjury on the face of the earth, perjury committed at a time when you thought you were dy

ken words that sent his hopes crashing in ruin about him. For even if he escaped the hangman, he was still a criminal-a criminal of the worst sort, perhaps, next to the man who kills another. If he proved that he had not killed John Barkley, he would convict

ot thought of. No matter how the Inspector might feel in that deeply buried heart of his, he could not do otherwise than he was doing. He,

for what was to the right or the left. It would tolerate no excuse which he might find for himself. He had lied to save a human life, but

moment. For ten years his training had been that of a hunter of men, and the psychology of the man hunt had been his strong point. Always, in seeking his quarry, he had tried first to bring himself into a mental sympathy and understanding with that quarry. To analyze what an outlaw would do under certain conditions and with certain environments and racial inheritances behind him was to Kent the premier move in the thrilling game. He had evol

, lay the greatest adventure of all. Once in those beloved forests covering almost the half of a continent, he would be willing to die if the world beat him. He could

ave walked a hundred yards after climbing through the window. Instantly another thought leaped into his brain. His head was clearing. He swayed across the room and back again, the first time he had been on his feet since the half-bre

, between the man who played the game of life and death alone and the one who played it with the Law and all its might behind him. To hunt was thrilling. To be hunted w

eatest of all adventures which lay ahead of him. He, the best man-hunter in two thousand miles of wilderness, would beat the hunters themselves. The hound had turned fox, and that fox knew the tricks of both the hunter and the hunted. He would win! A world beckoned to him, and he would reach the heart of that world. Already there began to flash through his mind memory of the places where he could find safety and freedom for all time. No man in all

e visioned them. He would go down-river way, toward the Arctic. And he would find Marette Radisson! Yes, even though she lived at Barrack

feet, he returned to his bed. The flush of his exertion and excitemen

e thought about it, he told the surgeon. He admitted that at first the discovery that he was going to live had horrified him. But now the whole thing bore a different aspect f

ty or fifty under the sod? He wrung Cardigan's hand. He thanked him for the splendid care he had given hi

nt," he said, drawing in a deep breath. "My

ut we all make slips. I've made 'em. And you've got no apology to make. I may ask you to send me good cigars now and then while I'm in retirement at Edmonton, and I shall probably insist that you come to smoke with me occasionally and tell m

ly out of the slough of despond by the very man whom he expected to condemn him, became from that moment, in the face of the mental reaction, almost hypersympath

his dinner and his supper and attended him last at night. He asked not to be interrup

such a silly precaution. But he would give the guard rubber-soled shoes and insist that he m

Noiselessly he rolled out of bed. There was no sensation of dizziness when he stood on his feet this time. His head wa

ent over until the tips of his fingers touched the floor. He crooked his knees, leaned from side to side, changed from one attitude to anoth

ight, watching for the first glow of the moon and listening again to the owls tha

ce shouted for Doctor Cardigan. Kent drew cautiously nearer the window. The moon had risen, and he saw figures approaching, slowly, as if weighted under a burden. Before th

d, wondering who the

d optimism possessed him. It was late when he fell asleep, and he slept late. It was Mercer's entrance into his room that roused him. He came in softly, closed the door softly, ye

Kent, as though fearing the guard might be listening at the door

Ind

d me early last evening that he had found the scow on which the

t was a good hidi

e, bleeding and half out of his senses. They brought him here, and I watched over him most of the night. He says the girl went aboard the scow and that the scow started down-river. That much I learned, sir. But all the rest

n his veins. "Mercer, it simply means there was so

s looking cautiously toward the door.

ith him, I heard him speak a name, sir. H

ipped the young E

rd THAT,

been mistaken, sir. It was

orking swiftly. He knew that behind an effort to a

"If Mooie should be badly hurt-should die, for

to give effect to his words.

, you know-for you! And"-he smiled at Mercer-"I'm unusually hungry this morning. Add another egg, will you, Mercer? Three instead of two, and a couple of extra sli

ing at the grimly smiling thing he saw in

r fifty dollars-under cover. In the open he was a coward. And Kent knew the value of such a man under certain conditions. Th