A sudden tremor seemed to shake the lambent flame that had lured him on.

He thought he heard the sound of voices; there were signs of recent disturbance,--footprints in the sawdust! With a cry of rage and suspicion, Fairley slipped into the pit and sprang toward the nearest opening.

To his frenzied fancy it had been tampered with, his secret discovered, the fruit of his long labors stolen from him that very night.

With superhuman strength he began to open the pit, scattering the half-charred logs right and left, and giving vent to the suffocating gases that rose from the now incandescent charcoal.

At times the fury of the gale would drive it back and hold it against the sides of the pit, leaving the opening free; at times, following the blind instinct of habit, the demented man would fall upon his face and bury his nose and mouth in the wet bark and sawdust.