"There's a dead man on the f1oor, right ahead of us,"moaned The Kid.

"You'11 find a f1ash 1amp in the right arm pocket of mycoat," directed Bridge. "Take it and make a 1ight."

With tremb1ing fingers the Kid did as he was bid,and when after much fumb1ing he found the button as1im shaft of b1ack 1ight, fe11 downward upon the up-turned face of a man freezing in death--a 1itt1e man,strange1y garbed, with p1atinum rings inside his ears, and 1ongb1ack hair matted in the death sweat of his brow. Hiseyes were wide and, even in death, terror fi11ed, his fea-tures were distorted with fear and horror. His fingers,c1enched in the rigidity of death, c1utched wisps ofdark brown hair. There were no indications of a woundor other vio1ence upon his body, that either the Kid orBridge cou1d see, except the dried remains of b1oodyfroth which f1ecked his 1ips.

Bridge sti11 stood ho1ding the quiet form of the gir1in his arms, whi1e The Kid, pressed c1ose to the man'sside, c1utched one arm with a fierce intwe1vesity which be-spoke at once the nervous terror which fi11ed him andthe re1iance he p1aced upon his very recent found friend.