Chapter 3. The Pursuit Of Garay

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_ CHAPTER III. THE PURSUIT OF GARAY

Robert paused a few moments in the hall. Sounds of voices came from the dining room, showing that the supper was still in progress. He thought of going back there to listen to the talk, but he reflected that the time for youth at the table had passed. They were in their secrets now, and he strolled toward the large room that contained the chest of drawers.

A dim light from an unshuttered window shone into the apartment and it was in his mind to wait there for Tayoga, but he stopped suddenly at the door and stared in astonishment. A shadow was moving in the room, thin, impalpable and noiseless, but it had all the seeming of a man. Moreover, it had a height and shape that were familiar, and it reminded him of the spy, Garay.

He was too much surprised to move, and so he merely stared. Garay knelt before the chest of drawers and began to work at it with a small sharp tool that he drew from his coat. Robert saw, too, that his attention was centered on the third drawer from the top. Then he came out of his catalepsy and started forward, but in doing so his foot made a slight noise on the floor.

Garay leaped to his feet, gave Robert one glance and then disappeared through the open window, with incredible dexterity and speed. Robert stared again. The man was there and then he was not. It could not be Garay, but his ghost, some illusion, a trick of the eye or mind. Then he knew it was no fancy. With extraordinary assurance the man had come there to rifle the drawer--for what purpose Robert knew not.

He ran to the window, but saw nothing save the peaceful night, the waving trees and the quiet lawn lying beyond. Then he walked to the chest and examined the third drawer, noticing new scratches around the lock. There was not the slightest doubt that Garay had been trying to open it.

He went to the door, resolved to tell Mr. Huysman at once of the attempt upon the chest, but he stopped irresolute. The low sounds of talk still came from the dining-room. He was only a boy and his was a most improbable tale. They might think he had been dreaming, though he knew full well that he had seen straight and true. And then Garay was gone, leaving no trace. No, he would not interrupt Mr. Huysman now, but he would talk it over with Tayoga.

He found the Onondaga standing among the trees, gazing with rapt vision at his star.

"Did Tododaho speak to you?" asked Robert.

"He did," replied Tayoga earnestly.

"What did he say?"

"That the great war will go on, and that you and I and the Great Bear, who is away, will encounter many more perils. The rest is veiled."

"And while we take our ease, Tayoga, our enemies are at work."

"What does Dagaeoga mean?"

"I went into the room containing the chest of drawers, the story of which you read, and found there Garay, the spy, trying to open it."

"Dagaeoga does not dream?"

"Oh, I thought for a moment or two that I did, but it was reality. Garay escaped through the open window, and, on the lock of the third drawer, were scratches that he left where he had been working with a sharp tool. Come, Tayoga, and look at them."

The two went into the house. Robert lighted a lamp for better light, and Tayoga knelt before the drawer, giving it a long and close examination.

"Garay is a very clever man," he said at last, "much cleverer, perhaps, than we gave him the credit of being."

"I think so too," said Robert.

"As events show, he came into this house to obtain the papers in this drawer, and you and I feel quite certain that those papers concern you. And as you saw him and the slaver together, it indicates that they have some plot against you, what I know not. But the papers here have much to do with it."

"Do you think I should speak of it to Master Jacobus and Mr. Hardy now?"

"I think not, Dagaeoga. Whatever is the mystery about you it is evident that they do not wish to tell you of it yet. So, being what you are, you will not ask them, but wait until such time as they see fit. I think these scratches on the lock were made by the sharp point of a hunting knife. Garay did not succeed in opening it, though it is likely that he would have done so if you had not interrupted him."

"When he saw me he was gone like a flash. I did not know a man could skip through a window with so much celerity."

"One has to be skillful at such things to carry on the trade of a spy. That is why he could have opened this lock, large and strong as it is, with the point of his hunting knife had he been allowed time, and that is why he flew through the window like a bird when you came upon him."

He examined the window, and then laughed a little.

"But he did not go without leaving further proof of himself," he said. "Here on the sill is the faintest trace of blood where he bruised his hand or wrist in his rapid flight."

"Suppose you try to trail him, Tayoga. I believe you could find out which way he went, even here in Albany. The men will talk in there a long time, and won't miss us. There's a fair moon."

"I will try," said Tayoga in his precise fashion. "First we will look at the ground under the window."

They went outside and the Onondaga examined the grass beneath it, the drop being five or six feet.

"As he had to come down hard, he ought to have left traces," said Robert.

"So he did, Dagaeoga. I find several imprints, and there also are two or three drops of blood, showing that he scratched his hand considerably when he went through the window. Here go the traces, leading north. Garay, of course, knows this immediate locality well, as he observed it closely when he made his attempt upon you before. It is lucky that it rained yesterday, leaving the ground soft. We may be able to follow him quite a distance."

"If anybody can follow him, you can."

"It is friendship that makes Dagaeoga speak so. The trail continues in its original course, though I think that sooner or later it will turn toward the river."

"Meaning that Garay will meet the slaver somewhere, and that the natural place of the latter is on the water."

"Dagaeoga reasons well. That, I think, is just what Garay will do. It is likely, too, that he will curve about the town. If he went upon a hard street we would lose him, since he would leave no trail there, but he will keep away because he does not wish to be seen. Ah, he now turns from the houses and into the fields! We shall be able to follow him. The moon is our friend. It is pouring down rays enough to disclose his trail, if trail he leaves."

They were soon beyond the houses and climbed three fences dividing the fields. At the third, Tayoga said:

"Garay paused here and rested. There is a drop of blood on the top rail. He probably sat there and looked back to see if he was followed. Ah, here is a splinter on a lower rail freshly broken!"

"What do you make of it, Tayoga?"

"The spy was angry, angry that his effort, made at such great risk, should have failed through the mere chance of your coming into the room at that particular time. He was angry, too, that he had bruised his hand so badly that it bled, and continued to bleed. So, his disappointment made him grind his heel against the rail and break the splinter."

"I'm glad he felt that way. A man in his trade ought to suffer many disappointments."

"When he had satisfied himself that no pursuit was in sight, he jumped to the ground. Here are deep imprints made by his descending weight, and now he becomes less careful. Albany is behind us, and he thinks all danger of pursuit has passed. I see a little brook ahead, and it is safe to say that he will kneel at it and drink."

"And also to bathe his wounded hand."

"Even so, Dagaeoga. Lo, it is as we said! Here are the imprints of his knees, showing that he refreshed himself with water after his hurried flight. The ground on the other side of the brook is soft and we shall be able to find his imprints there, even if it were pitch dark. Now I think they will turn very soon toward the river."

"Yes, they're curving. Here they go, Tayoga."

The trail led across a field, over a hill, and then through a little wood, where Tayoga was compelled to go slowly, hunting about like a hound, trying to trace a scent. But wherever he lost it he finally picked it up again, and, when they emerged from the trees, they saw the river not far ahead.

"Our trail will end at the stream," said Tayoga confidently.

As he had predicted, the imprints led directly to the river, and there ended their pursuit also. The Hudson flowed on in silence. There was nothing on its bosom.

"The slaver in a boat was waiting for him here," said Tayoga. "I think we can soon find proof of it."

A brief examination of the bank showed traces where the prow had rested.

"It was probably a boat with oars for two," he said. "The slaver sat in it most of the time, but he grew impatient at last and leaving the boat walked up the bank a little distance. Here go his steps, showing very plainly in the soft earth in the moonlight, and here come those of Garay to meet him. They stood at the top of the bank under this oak, and the spy told how he had failed. Doubtless, the slaver was much disappointed, but he did not venture to upbraid Garay, because the spy is as necessary to him as he is to the spy. After they talked it over they walked down the bank together--see their trails going side by side--entered the boat and rowed away. I wish the water would leave a trail, too, that we might follow them, but it does not."

"Do you think they'll dare go back to Albany?"

"The slaver will. What proof of any kind about anything have we? Down! Dagaeoga, down!"

Fitting the action to the word, the Onondaga seized Robert by the shoulders suddenly and dragged him to the earth, falling with him. As he did so a bullet whistled where Robert's head had been and a little puff of smoke rose from a clump of bushes on the opposite shore.

"They're there in their boat among the bushes that grow on the water's edge!" exclaimed Tayoga. "I ought to have thought of it, but I did see a movement among the bushes in time! I cannot see their faces or the boat, either, but I know it is Garay and the slaver."

"I have no weapon," said Robert. "It did not occur to me that I would need one."

"I have a pistol in my tunic. I always carry one when I am in the white man's country. It is wise."

"Under the circumstances, I think we'd better slip away and leave the spy and the slaver to enjoy the river as they please, for to-night at least."

He was about to rise, but Tayoga pulled him down a second time and a report heavier than the first came from the far shore. Another bullet passed over their heads and struck with a sough in the trunk of a big tree beyond them.

"That was from a rifle. The other was from a pistol," said Tayoga. "It is the slaver, of course, who has the rifle, and they mean to make it very warm for us. Perhaps an unexpected chance gives them hope to do here what they expected to achieve later on."

"Meaning a final disposition of me?"

"That was in my mind, Dagaeoga. I think it is you at whom they will shoot and you would better creep away. Lie almost flat and edge along until you come to the trees, which are about twenty yards behind us. There, you will be safe."

"And leave you alone, Tayoga! What have I ever done to make you think I'd do such a thing?"

"It is not Tayoga whom they want. It is Dagaeoga. I cannot go without taking a shot at them, else my pistol would burn me inside my tunic. Be wise as I am, Dagaeoga. Always carry a pistol when you are in the white man's towns. Life is reasonably safe only in the red man's forest."

"It looks as if you were right, Tayoga, but remember that I stay here with you as long as you stay."

"Then keep close to the earth. Roll back a bit and you will be sheltered better by that little rise."

Robert obeyed, and it was well that he did so, as the heavy rifle cracked a second time, and a plowing bullet caused fine particles of earth to fly over him. Tayoga leveled his pistol at the flash and smoke, but did not pull the trigger.

"Why didn't you fire, Tayoga?" asked Robert.

"I could not see well enough. They and their boat are still hidden by the bushes in which they remain, because from there they can command the bank where we lie."

"Then it looks as if each side held the other. If they come out of the bushes you use your pistol on 'em, and if we retreat farther they use their rifle on us. You'll notice, Tayoga, that we're in a little dip, and if we go out of it on our far side in retreat we'll make a target of ourselves. If they leave the bushes on their far side to climb their own bank they come into view. It's checkmate for both."

"It is so, Dagaeoga. It is a difficult position for you, but not for me. We of the red races learn to have patience, because we are not in such a hurry to consume time as you white people are."

"That is true, but it is not a moment for a discussion of the relative merits of white and red."

"We are likely to have plenty of leisure for it, since I think we are doomed to a long wait."

"I think you're happy over it, Tayoga. Your voice has a pleased ring."

"I'm not unhappy. I see a chance to gratify a curiosity that I have long had. I wish to see whether the white race, even in great danger, where it is most needed, has as much patience as the red. Ah, Dagaeoga, you were incautious! Do not raise your head again. You, at least, do not have as much patience as the occasion requires."

The third bullet had passed so near Robert that cold shivers raced over his body and he resolved not to raise his head again a single inch, no matter what the temptation.

"Remember that it is you whom they want," said Tayoga in his precise, book English. "Having the rifle they can afford to try shots at longer range, but with the pistol I must wait until I can see them clearly. Well, Dagaeoga, it is a fine evening, not too cold, we need fresh air after a big supper, and perhaps one could not find a pleasanter place in which to pass the night."

"You mean that we may lie here until day?"

"Dagaeoga speaks as if that would be remarkable. My father waited once three days and three nights beside a run to obtain a deer. He neither ate nor drank during that time, but he went home with the deer. If he could wait so long for something to eat, cannot we wait as long when our lives are at stake?"

"According to the laws of proportion we should be willing to stay here a week, at least. Can you see anything moving in the bushes over there, Tayoga?"

"Not a thing. They too are patient men, the slaver and the spy, and having missed several times with the rifle they will bide a while, hoping that we will expose ourselves."

The Onondaga settled himself comfortably against the earth, his pistol lying on the little rise in front of him, over which his eyes watched the clump of bushes into which the boat had gone. If the slaver and the spy made any attempt to slip forth, whether on the water or up the bank, he would certainly see them, and he would not withhold the pressure of his finger on the trigger.

The full moon still shone down, clothing the world in a beautiful silver light. The stars in myriads danced in a sky of soft, velvety blue. The river flowed in an illuminated, molten mass. A light wind hummed a pleasant song among the brown leaves. Robert had a curious feeling of rest and safety. He was quite sure that neither the slaver nor the spy could hit him while he lay in the dip, and no movement of theirs would escape the observation of Tayoga, the incomparable sentinel. He relaxed, and, for a few moments, his faculties seemed to fall into a dreamy state.

"If I should go to sleep, Tayoga," he said, "wake me up when you need me."

"You will not go to sleep."

"How do you know? I feel a lot like it."

"It is because the worry you felt a little while ago has passed. You believe that in this duel of patience we shall conquer."

"I know that we'll conquer, Tayoga, because you are here."

"Dagaeoga's flattery is not subtle."

"It's not flattery. It's my real belief."

The night wore on. The breeze that rustled the leaves was warm and soothing, and Robert's sleepiness increased. But he fought against it. He used his will and brought his body roughly to task, shaking himself violently. He also told himself over and over again that they were in a position of great danger, that he must be on guard, that he must not leave the duty to the Onondaga alone. Such violent efforts gradually drove sleep away, and raising his head a few inches he looked over the rise.

The whole surface of the river still showed clearly in the moonlight, as it flowed slowly and peacefully on, silver in tint most of the time, but now and then disclosing shades of deep blue. Directly opposite was the clump of bushes in which the slaver and the spy had pushed their boat. An easy shot for a rifle, but a hard one for a pistol.

Robert studied the bushes very closely, trying to discern their enemies among them, but he saw nothing there save a slight movement of the leaves before the wind. It was possible that his foes had slipped away, going up the other bank in some manner unseen. Since he could discover no trace of them he began to believe that it was true, and he raised his head another inch for a better look.

Crack! went the rifle, and the bullet sang so close to his face that at first he thought he was hit. He stared for a moment at the puff of smoke rising from the bushes, his faculties in a daze. Then he came to himself all at once and dropped back abruptly, feeling his head gingerly to see that it was sound everywhere. But he was certain that the slaver and the spy were there.

"Dagaeoga was rash," said the Onondaga.

"I know now I was. Still, I feel much relief because I've settled a problem that was troubling me."

"What was it?"

"I wasn't sure that our enemies were still there. Now I am."

"If you feel like it yet, I think you may go to sleep. Nothing is likely to happen for a long time, and I can awaken you at any moment."

"Thank you, Tayoga, but I've banished the wish. I know I can't do anything without a weapon, but I can give you moral help. They're bound to try something sometime or other, because when the day comes other people may arrive--we're not so far from Albany--and they're guilty, we're not. We don't mind being seen."

"It is so, Dagaeoga. You talk almost like a man. At times you reason well. Finding that we are as patient as they are they will make a movement in an hour or two, though I think we are not likely to see it."

"An hour or two? Then I think I'd better make myself comfortable again."

He settled his body against the brown turf which was soft and soothing, and, in spite of himself, the wish for sleep returned. It was so quiet that one was really invited to go away to slumberland, and then he had eaten much at the big supper. After a long time, he was sinking into a doze when he was dragged back abruptly from it by a report almost at his ear that sounded like the roar of a cannon. He sat up convulsively, and saw Tayoga holding in his hand a smoking pistol.

"Did you hit anything?" he asked.

"I saw a stir in the bushes over there," replied the Onondaga, "and fired into them. I do not think my bullet found its target, but we will wait. I have ammunition in my pocket, and meanwhile I will reload."

He put in the powder and ball, still keeping an eye on the bushes. He waited a full half hour and then he handed the pistol to Robert.

"Watch, and use it if need be," he said, "while I swim over and get the boat."

"Get the boat! What are you talking about, Tayoga? Has the moon struck you with a madness?"

"Not at all, Dagaeoga. The slaver and the spy are gone, leaving behind them the boat which they could not take with them, and we might as well have it."

"Are you sure of what you are saying?"

"Quite sure, Dagaeoga. But for precaution's sake you can watch well with the pistol and cover my approach."

He thrust the weapon into Robert's hand, quickly threw off his clothing and sprang into the water, swimming with strong strokes toward the dense, high bushes that lined the opposite shore. Robert watched the lithe, brown figure cleave the water, disappear in the bushes and then reappear a moment or two later, rowing a boat. All had fallen out as the Onondaga had said, and he quickly came back to the western side.

"It is a good boat," he said, "a trophy of our victory, and we will use it. Take the oars, Dagaeoga, while I put on my clothes again. Our long wait is over."

Robert sprang into the boat, while Tayoga, standing upon the bank, shook himself, making the drops fly from him in a shower.

"Which way did they go?" asked Robert.

"They crept down the stream among the bushes between the water and the cliff. They could force their bodies that way but not the boat. I felt sure they had gone after my pistol shot, because I saw some of the bushes moving a little against the wind farther down the stream. It was proof. Besides, they had to go, knowing that day would soon be here."

He reclothed himself and stepped back into the boat, taking up the second pair of oars.

"Let us return to Albany in triumph by the river," he said.

"You think there is no danger of our being fired upon from ambush?"

"None at all. The slaver and spy will be anxious to get away and escape observation. They would be glad enough to shoot at us, but they would never dare to risk it."

"And so ours has been the triumph. Once more we've been victorious over our enemies, Tayoga."

"But they will strike again, and Dagaeoga must beware."

They rowed into the middle of the river and dropped slowly down the stream. Robert had so much confidence in the Onondaga that he felt quite safe for the present at least. It seemed to his sanguine temperament that as they had escaped every danger in the past so they would escape every one in the future. He was naturally a child of hope, in which he was fortunate.

The gray skies broke away in the east, and the dawn was unrolled, a blaze of rose and gold. The surface of the river glittered in the morning sun. The houses of Albany stood out sharp and clear in the first light of the morning.

"They'll be anxious about us at Mr. Huysman's," said Robert.

"So they will," said Tayoga. "As I have said to you before, Dagaeoga, it will be wise for us to return to the wilderness as soon as we can. The red man's forest still seems to be safer than the white man's town."

They reached Albany, tied up the boat, and walked in the early dawn to the house of Mynheer Jacobus Huysman, where Caterina met them at the door with a cry of joy. Master Jacobus appeared in a few moments, his face showing great relief.

"Where have you lads been?" he exclaimed.

"We have been in much danger," replied Robert soberly, "but we're out of it now, and here we are."

The others, all of whom had lain down fully dressed, came soon, and Robert told the story of the night, beginning with the spy's attempt upon the third drawer in the chest of drawers. Mr. Huysman and Mr. Hardy exchanged glances.

"That drawer does contain papers of value," said Mr. Huysman, "but I'll see that they're put to-day in a place into which no thief can break."

"And it would perhaps be well for young Mr. Lennox also to keep himself in a safe place," said Mr. Hervey, who had spent the night too in Mr. Huysman's house. "It seems that a most determined effort is being made against him."

"Thank you, sir, for your interest in me," said Robert, "and I'll do my best to be cautious."

He ate a hearty breakfast and then, on the insistence of Master Jacobus, lay down. Declaring that he would not sleep, he fell asleep nevertheless in ten minutes, and did not awake until the afternoon. He learned then that Albany was feeling better. Many of the rumors that Montcalm was advancing had been quieted. Scouts brought word that he was yet at Lake Champlain, and that he had not given any sign of marching upon Albany.

Robert learned also that the council in Mr. Huysman's house had been to take measures of offense as well as defense. Alan Hervey spoke for the leading men of New York and he was to tell Albany for them that they would make a mighty effort. A campaign had been lost, but another would be undertaken at once, and it would be won. They had no doubt that Boston, Baltimore and Charleston were doing the same. The strong men of the Colonies intended to assure England of their staunch support, and the English-speaking race not dreaming perhaps even then that it was to become such a mighty factor in the world, would fight to the bitter end for victory.

"I go back by sloop to New York to-morrow," said Mr. Hardy to him, "and of course Jonathan Pillsbury goes with me. There are important affairs of which I must speak to you some day, Robert, and believe me, my lad, I do not speak of them to you now because the reasons are excellent. I know you've borne yourself bravely in many dangers, and I know you will be as strong of heart in others to come. I'm sorry I have to go away without seeing Willet, but you could not be in safer hands than his."

"And I know, too," said Robert earnestly, "that I could have no better friend than you, Mr. Hardy, nor you, Mr. Pillsbury."

He spoke with the frank sincerity that always made such an appeal to everybody, and Mr. Hardy patted him approvingly on the shoulder.

"And don't forget me, Mr. Lennox," said Mr. Hervey. "I want you to be my guest in New York some day. We live in tremendous times, and so guard yourself well."

They left with a favoring breeze and the swift sloop that bore them was soon out of sight. Robert, Tayoga, Mr. Huysman and Master McLean, who had seen them off, walked slowly back up the hill to Mr. Huysman's house.

"I feel that they brought us new courage," said Master Jacobus. "New York iss a great town, a full equal to Boston, though they are very unlike, and do not forget, Robert, that the merchants and financiers have much to say in a vast war like this which is vexing the world to-day."

"I do not forget it, sir," said Robert. "I have seen New York and its wealth and power. They say that it has nearly twenty thousand inhabitants--and some day I hope to see London too. Lieutenant Grosvenor is coming. Can we stop and speak to him?"

"Of course, my lad, but Master Alexander and I have pressing business and you will pardon us if we go on. If Lieutenant Grosvenor will come to my house as my guest bring him, and tell him to stay as long as he will."

"That I will, sir, and gladly," said Robert, as he and Tayoga turned aside to meet the young Englishman.

The meeting had all the warmth of youth and of real liking. Grosvenor was fully restored now and his intense interest in everything that was happening was undiminished. They strolled on together. Robert and Tayoga did not say anything for the present about their adventure of the preceding night with the slaver and the spy, but Robert delivered the invitation of Master Jacobus.

"If you can get leave come and stay a while with us in the house of Mr. Huysman," he said. "He bids me give you a most hospitable welcome, and when he says a thing he means not only what he says but a good deal more, too. You'll have a fine bed and you may have to eat more than you can well stand."

"It appeals to me," said Grosvenor, "and I'd come, but I'm leaving Albany in a day or two."

"Leaving Albany! I suppose I shouldn't ask where you're going."

"I'll tell you without the asking. I'm going with some other officers to Boston, where we're to await orders. Between you and me, Lennox, I think we shall take a sea voyage from Boston, maybe to Nova Scotia."

"And that, I think, indicates a new expedition from England and a new attack upon Canada and the French, but from another point. It's like the shadow of great events."

"It seems so to me, too. Come with us, Lennox. All your friends have got into the Royal Americans, and I think they too are going east. We could raise enough influence to secure you a lieutenant's commission."

Robert's heart swelled, but he shook his head.

"You tempt me, Grosvenor," he said. "I'd like to go. I think you and the others will be in the thick of great events, but I could never desert Tayoga and Willet. I feel that my business, whatever it is, is here. But we may meet on the front again, though we'll come by different routes."

"If you can't you can't, and that's an end of it, but I'm glad, Lennox, that I've known you and Tayoga and Willet, and that we've shared perils. I'm to meet the Philadelphians and the Virginians at the George Inn again. Will you two come on?"

"Gladly," said Robert.

They found that the others had already arrived, and they were full of jubilation. Colden, Wilton and Carson were leaving their troop with regret, but the Royal Americans raised in the Colonies were a picked regiment ranking with the best of the British regulars. Stuart and Cabell, coming from the south, which was now more remote from the scene of war, were delighted at the thought that they would be in the heart of the conflict. They, too, were insistent that Robert come with them, but again he refused. When he and Tayoga left them and walked back to the house of Mr. Huysman the Onondaga said:

"Dagaeoga was right to stay. His world is centered here."

"That's so. I feel it in every bone of me. Besides, I'm thinking that we'll yet have to deal with Garay and that slaver. I'll be glad though when Willet comes. Then we can decide upon our next step."

Robert was too active to stay quietly at the house of Mr. Huysman. Only their host, Tayoga and he were present at their supper that evening, and, as the man was rather silent, the lads respected his preoccupation, believing that he was concerned with the great affairs in which he was having a part. After supper Tayoga left for the camp on the flats to see an Onondaga runner who had arrived that day, and Mr. Huysman, still immersed in his thoughts, withdrew into the room containing the great chest of drawers.

Robert spent a little while in the chamber that he and Tayoga had used, looking at the old, familiar things, and then he wandered restlessly outside, where he stood, glancing down at the lights of the town. He felt lonely for the moment. Everybody else was doing something, and he liked to be with people. Perhaps some of his friends had come to the George Inn. A light was burning there and he would go and see.

There was a numerous company at the inn, but it included nobody that Robert knew, and contenting himself with a look from the doorway, he turned back. Then the masts and spars in the river, standing up a black tracery against the clear, moonlit sky, interested him, and he walked casually to the bank. Some activity was still visible on the vessels, but tiring of them soon he turned away.

It was dark on the shore, but Robert started violently. If fancy were not playing tricks with him he saw the shadow of Garay once more. The figure had appeared about twenty yards ahead of him and then it was gone. Robert was filled with fierce anger that the man should show such brazen effrontery, and impulsively he pursued. Profiting by his experience with the spy, he now had a pistol in his pocket, and clutching the butt of it he hurried after the elusive shadow.

He caught a second glimpse. It was surely Garay, and he was running along the shore, up the stream.

Robert's anger rose by leaps. The spy's presumption was beyond all endurance, but he would make him pay for it this time. He drew his pistol that he might be ready should Garay turn and attack, though he did not believe that he would do so, and sped after him. But always the shadow flitted on before, and the distance between them did not seem to diminish.

They soon left all houses behind, although Robert, in his excitement, did not notice it, and then he saw that at last he was gaining.

"Stop, Garay! Stop, or I shoot!" he cried.

The spy halted, and Robert, covering him with his pistol, was about to approach when he heard a step behind him. He whirled, but it was too late. A stunning weight crashed down upon his head, and he fell into oblivion. _

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