telescope and focussed it eagerly on the slow-moving, black specks.
Why, there went Hank Brown and the fireman, Ed somebody, and the pack
horse with Ed's bedding lashed on its back. For perhaps a mile he
watched them going down through the manzanita and buck brush toward
the massed line of balsam firs that marked the nearest edge of the
heavy timber line.

So that was the trail that led up to his eyrie! He marked it well,
thinking that it might be a good plan to keep an eye on that trail, in
case an officer came looking for him here.

He watched Hank and Ed go down into the balsam firs. Dark shadows
crept after them down the slope to the edge of the thicket where they
had disappeared.

He watched the shadows until they gave him a vague feeling of
discomfort and loneliness. He turned away and looked down into the
bottom of the mountain's cup. The lake lay darkling there, hooded with
shadows like a nun, the snow banks at the edge indicating the band of
white against the calm face. It looked cold and lonesome down there;
terribly cold and lonesome.

Mount Lassen, when he sent a comfort-seeking glance that way, sent up
a spurt of grayish black smoke with a vicious suddenness that made him
jump. With bulging eyes he watched it mount higher and higher until he
held his breath in fear that it would never stop. He saw the column
halt and spread and fall....

When it was over he became conscious of itching palms where his nails
had dug into them and left little red marks. He discovered that he was