Then, turning to the driver, the tall, impetuous
fare clapped another into his extended palm.
"There you are, genie!" he exclaimed exultantly, and, grabbing up
his bags, was off up the walk as fast as his long legs would carry
him.
"What was that he called me, kid?" demanded the driver uneasily.
"Janie."
CHAPTER XXIV
AT QUILL'S WINDOW
The scraping, laboured sound grew nearer and louder, and presently
there was added the thick, stertorous breathing of the climber as
he drew close to the mouth of the cave.
Courtney crept farther away from the opening and watched with narrow,
frowning eyes for the head to appear above the ledge. He held the
revolver in his shaking hand, but he knew he was not going to shoot.
He thrilled with a strange sort of glee, however, at the thought of
the ease with which he could send the fool crashing to the ground
far below, but what would be the use? He was trapped.
He had a queer and strangely ungrudging respect for the courage
of this man of Uncle Sam's, this man who was not to be turned back
or daunted by the prospect of sudden death when engaged in the
performance of his duty. What use to slay this single, indomitable
pursuer when nothing was to be gained by the act? There were others
down there to avenge him,--to starve him out, or to burn him out
if needs be. Murder, that's what it would be, and they would hang
him for murder.
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