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"Don't touch it!" said McKay in a low but distinct voice: and the words galvanised the extended arm and it shot out, grasping the rifle, as the man himself dropped out of sight behind the rock. A terrible stillness fell upon the place; there was not a sound, not a movement. Suddenly the girl pointed at a shadow that moved between the rocks and the crash of McKay's pistol deafened them.
He levelled it as he grasped it, hidden within the side-pocket of his coat. "HIS HAND IS NOT WOUNDED," breathed the girl. "If he touches his rifle he is a Hun!" McKay's head nodded almost imperceptibly. Gray's back was still turned, but one hand was extended, carelessly reaching for the rifle that stood leaning against the cake of granite.
It was Nada's cry, a cry wild and sobbing and filled with gladness, that told him the truth, and with the precious paper clutched in her hand she smothered her face against McKay's breast, while Breault came up grinning behind them, and Jolly Roger heard the click of his key in the handcuffs. "I am also loaded down with a number of foolish messages for you," he said, attending to the fire again.
McKay's sombre eyes rested on his in grim comprehension of all that Recklow had left unsaid. Swift and savage as would be the fate of a man caught within German frontiers on any such business as he was now engaged in, the fate of a woman would be unspeakable. If Miss Erith noticed or understood the silence between these two men she gave no sign of comprehension.
"We shall preserve your secret, sir," answered the professor with great dignity. "I thought you would. Lean closer and I'll tell you," almost whispered the visitor. "I'm a Ranger, too," confided the visitor. "What, you a Ranger?" exclaimed the professor. "Of Captain McKay's band?" "You've hit it, pard." "Well, well, this is indeed a pleasure.
"I am sure that had an American made the trail he would also have contrived to let us know given us some indication of his identity." The girl's low voice suddenly failed and her hand clutched McKay's shoulder.
McKay did not add that his future prospects were now materially changed, and that it was no longer of supreme importance to him to rise in his profession. "Give me your hand, my boy," said Colonel Blythe, visibly touched at McKay's disinterestedness. "You are proving your gratitude in a way I shall never forget. But let us talk business. You know I want you as adjutant."
The latter carefully opened his poison pouch, redipped the point of the dart, held it a moment to dry in a shaft of sunlight, and slipped it into his dart case among a score of unused missiles. "No waste of ammunition here," was McKay's dry comment. "What happens to this corpse now?" Through Lourenço's mouth Tucu answered. "It will be left here until police warriors come from the malocas.
The sudden stopping of his breath the tightening of his arms drew Nada's shining eyes to his face, and then she, too, saw the little old Missioner as he swayed and staggered across the clearing. With a cry she was out of McKay's arms and running toward him. Father John was leaning heavily upon her when McKay came up. His face was tense and his breath came in choking gasps.
The incident of the knife, and of Duncan McKay's significant glance, at once flashed across Davidson's mind, and he felt a terrible sinking of the heart when the suspicion, once before roused within him, seemed now to be confirmed. He resolved, however, to reveal his thoughts to no one specially not to Elspie.
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