It was rather slow work to stalk that camp-fire, for the big boulders
cut off the sight of the red eye time and again, and she had to make
little, cautious detours before she found it again, but she kept
steadily at her work. Once she stopped, her blood running cold, for
she thought that she heard a faint voice blown up the canyon on the
wind: "McGurk!"
For half a minute she stood frozen, listening, but the sound was not
repeated, and she went on again with greater haste. So she came at
last in view of a hollow in the side of the gorge. Here there were a
few trees, growing in the cove, and here, she knew, there was a small
spring of clear water. Many a time she had made a cup of her hands and
drunk here.
Now she made out the fire clearly, the trees throwing out great spokes
of shadow on all sides, spokes of shadows that wavered and shook with
the flare of the small fire beyond them. She dropped to her hands and
knees and, parting the dense underbrush, began the last stealthy
approach.
CHAPTER 35
Up the same course which Jacqueline followed, Mary Brown had fled
earlier that night with the triumphant laughter of Jack still ringing
in her ears and following her like a remorseless, pointed hand
of shame.
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