Episode Ten: The Twilight of Mike Chapter 2

Quintana, on a fox-trot along the rock-trail into Drowned Valley, now thoroughly understood that it was the only sanctuary left him for the moment. Egress to the southward was closed; to the eastward, also; and he was too wary to venture westward toward Ghost Lake.

No, the only temporary safety lay in the swamps of Drowned Valley.

And there, he decided as he jogged along, if worse came to worst and starvation drove him out, he'd settle matters with Mike Clinch and break through to the north.

He meant to settle matters with Mike Clinch anyway. He was not afraid of Clinch; not really afraid of anybody. It had been the dogs that demoralised Quintana. He'd had no experience with hunting hounds, -- did not know what to expect, -- how to manoeuvre. If only he could have seen these beasts that filled the forest with their hob-goblin outcries -- if he could have had a good look at the creatures who gave forth that weird, crazed, melancholy volume of sound!--"Bon!" he said coolly to himself. "It was a crisis of nerves which I experience. yes. ... I should have shot him, that fat Sard. Yes. ... Only those damn dog---- And now he shall die an' rot -- that fat Sard -- all by himse'f, parbleu! -- like one big dead thing all alone in the wood. ... A puddle of guts full of diamonds! Ah! -- mon dieu! -- a million francs in gems that shine like festering stars in this damn wood till the world end. Ah, bah -- nome de dieu de----"