The Golden Quest by Maxwell Grant & Walter Gibson

Author:Maxwell Grant & Walter Gibson [Grant, Maxwell & Gibson, Walter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Espionage, Fiction, Thrillers
ISBN: 9781608770632
Amazon: 160877063X
Publisher: Street & Smith
Published: 1935-05-15T08:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XII. MOVES AT DUSK

IT was late the next afternoon. Harry Vincent and Rex Brodford were seated in a clearing half a mile from the shack on the slope. Rex was lighting a pipe in disgruntled fashion.

"I'm for going back to the lodge tonight," he announced. "This has been a tough day, prowling through these hillocks. Lucky we had sense enough to put on leather puttees."

"When will you come back?" inquired Harry, puffing casually at his pipe.

"Tomorrow," returned Rex, "or the day after. I've kept my determination, Harry. I'm going to scour every inch of this land. But the job won't be done in a week - or month."

"Or a year, perhaps."

Rex laughed at Harry's rejoinder.

"Maybe you're right," he decided. "But our only bet is to keep on. No one's going to give us a tip-off. Not even Old Absalom."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't think he knows anything about the Quest mine. I think Jubal knows he doesn't. Jubal didn't talk to him about it."

"Maybe Jubal is waiting until we're out of the picture."

Harry's tone was significant. Rex looked gloomy. He was deep in thought. Harry was meditating also. For The Shadow's agent had an idea that a break was coming.

Last night, at the shack, Harry had inscribed a coded note that he had later tucked under the door. In the morning, the envelope was missing. The Shadow had most certainly come for it.

Thus had Harry acquainted The Shadow with the events that he and Rex had observed in Old Absalom's cabin. Until a reply came from The Shadow, Harry was content to continue an aimless search about the vicinity. Harry had a profound impression that The Shadow was already accomplishing some result.

HARRY was right. While he and Rex were smoking in the clearing, a figure was approaching the shack that formed their temporary headquarters. The sun had set over a hill just westward of the shack. Deep gloom was shading the tiny, one-room building.

Spectral in the dusk, the approaching form revealed itself. The Shadow was again at work, this time on the surface of the ground. Settling night was to be his mysterious habitat.

Stopping near the shack, The Shadow saw that it was empty. He turned. Pale light showed a flash of crimson, the lining of the black cloak. From folds of cloth, The Shadow drew the contour map that showed the surface of this terrain.

Moving up the slope, he picked his course with care. The Shadow was guiding his steps with the same accuracy that he had used the night before. Passing a jagged rock, The Shadow slowed his pace. He stopped beside matted ground where loose stones showed through the turf.

The trees hereabout were scrawny. Large timber was lacking on the slope.

Few persons would have noticed anything from the foliage; but The Shadow picked out a significant fact. One spot - the very point indicated on his map - could well have been a clearing years before.

It had scrubby trees at present, but only a few maples had grown to considerable height.

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