Long experience in the woods had made him a
good trailsman. He proceeded cautiously until he reached the edge
of the clearing.
The sound had stopped now, but he thought he could hear heavy
breathing from beyond the house. As he moved toward that side, a
small but malevolent-looking snake slithered out from beneath a
bush near by. Involuntarily he leaped aside. As he landed, a round
pebble slipped under his foot. He flung up his arm. It met the low
branch of a tree, and saved him a fall. But the thrashing of the
leaves made a startling noise in the moonlit stillness. The snake
went on about its business.
"Hola!" challenged a voice around the angle of the house.
Carroll recognized the voice. He stepped out of the shadows and
strode across the open space. At the corner of the house he met
the muzzle of a revolver pointing straight at the pit of his
stomach. Back of it were the steady and now goggleless eyes of
Luther Pruyn.
"I am unarmed," said Carroll.
"Ah, it's you!" said the other. He lowered his weapon, carefully
whirled the cylinder to bring the hammer opposite an empty
chamber, and dropped it in his pocket.
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