Green Fancy

A sharp whisper reached his ears. "Come here--quick!"

He floundered through the brush and almost fell prostrate over the kneeling figure of a man.

"Take care! Lend a hand," whispered Sprouse.

Dropping to his knees, Barnes felt for and touched wet, coarse garments, and gasped: "My God! Have you--killed him?"

"Temporarily," said Sprouse, between his teeth. "Here, unwind the rope I've got around my waist. Take the end--here. Got a knife? Cut off a section about three feet long. I'll get the gag in his mouth while you're doing it. Hangmen always carry their own ropes," he concluded, with grewsome humour. "Got it cut? Well, cut two more sections, same length."

With incredible swiftness the two of them bound the feet, knees and arms of the inert victim.

"I came prepared," said Sprouse, so calmly that Barnes marvelled at the iron nerve of the man.

"Thirty feet of hemp clothes-line for a belt, properly prepared gags, --and a sound silencer."

"By heaven, Sprouse, I--I believe he's dead," groaned Barnes. "We--we haven't any right to kill a--"

"He'll be as much alive but not as lively as a cricket in ten minutes," said the other. "Grab his heels. We'll chuck him over into the bushes where he'll be out of harm's way. We may have to run like hell down this path, partner, and I'd--I'd hate to step on his face."

"'Gad, you're a cold-blooded--"

"Don't be finicky," snapped Sprouse. "It wasn't much of a crack, and it was necessary. There! You're safe for the time being," he grunted as they laid the limp body down in the brush at the side of the narrow trail. Straightening up, with a sigh of satisfaction, he laid his hand on Barnes's shoulder. "We've just got to go through with it now, Barnes. We'll never get another chance. Putting that fellow out of business queers us forever afterward." He dropped to his knees and began searching over the ground with his hands. "Here it is. You can't see it, of course, so I'll tell you what it is. A nice little block of sandal-wood. I've already got his nice little hammer, so we'll see what we can raise in the way of wireless chit-chat."

Without the slightest hesitation, he struck a succession of quick, confident blows upon the block of wood.

"He always signals at this spot going out and again coming in," he said softly.

"How the deuce did you find out--"

"There! Hear that? He says, 'All's well,'--same as I said, or something equivalent to it. I've been up here quite a bit, Barnes, making a study of night-hawks, their habits and their language."