"You are afraid that I will
kill you."
"It is a warning, M'seur. You might try. But I should probably kill you.
As it is--" he shrugged his shoulders as he led the way down the
ridge--"as it is, there is small chance of Jean Croisset answering
the call."
"May those saints of yours preserve me, Jean, but this is all very
cheerful!" grunted Howland, half laughing in spite of himself. "Now that
I'm tied up again, who the devil is there to die--but me?"
"That is a hard question, M'seur," replied the half-breed with grim
seriousness. "Perhaps it is your turn. I half believe that it is."
Scarcely were the words out of his mouth when there came again the
moaning howl from the top of the ridge.
"You're getting on my nerves, Jean--you and that accursed dog!"
"Silence, M'seur!"
Out of the grim loneliness at the foot of the mountain there loomed a
shadow which at first Howland took to be a huge mass of rock. A few
steps farther and he saw that it was a building. Croisset gripped him
firmly by the arm.
"Stay here," he commanded. "I will return soon."
For a quarter of an hour Howland waited. Twice in that interval the dog
howled above him. He was glad when Croisset appeared out of the gloom.
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