looked again but could make out only an army of blackened stumps.
Entering the scrub with a vague sense of uneasiness, he circled among
the stunted trees and took up a position under cover of a granite
outcropping that gave him a view of his back trail. He had hardly
settled himself before a man stepped from behind a stump and struck out
rapidly upon his trail. The man was traveling light, apparently
studying the ground as he walked. Wentworth glanced about him and
noted that the rocky ridge would give the man scant opportunity for
trailing him to his position. The figure was coming up the ridge now.
As it passed a twisted pine, Wentworth got a good look into his face,
and the sight of it sent cold shivers up his spine that prickled
uncomfortably at the roots of his hair. For the face was that of Alex
Thumb, and at close range Wentworth could see that the black eyes
glittered evilly. Icy fingers gripped the engineer's heart. He felt
suddenly weak and cold.

Raising a shaking hand to his forehead, Wentworth withdrew it wet and
glistening with sweat. His brain conjured fantastic stories of the
powers of the Indian tracker, and fearfully he scanned the rocks over
which he had come. Suddenly it occurred to him that if the man were
still upon his trail, he would have come up with him before this.
Evidently the tracker was wasting no time on the broad rocky ridge, but
taking it for granted that his quarry would proceed on his way, figured
on picking up the trail again in the softer ground of the next valley;
in which case he would soon discover his error and circle to correct
it. Discarding his pack, the terrified man swiftly descended the ridge
and crossed the _brule_ at a run. Gaining the shelter of the forest he
paused and looked back. The wide clearing was tenantless, and
regaining his breath, he resumed his flight, crashing through patches
of underbrush, and splashing through streams until, just at dusk, the