He nodded, felt forward with cautious handgroping toward a damp patch of moss, and drew himself thither, making no sound among the dry leaves.
"Watch the woods behind us, Yellow-hair," he whispered.
The girl fumbled in her tattered pocket and produced a pistol. Then she sat up cross-legged on her blanket, rested one elbow across her knee, and, cocking the poised weapon, swept the southern woods with calm, bright eyes.
Now the man in Swiss uniform called once more across the chasm: "Attention, Americans I I know you are there; I smell your fire. Also, what you have done is plain enough for me to see--that thing lying over there on the edge of the rocks with corpse-flies already whirling over it! And you had better answer me, Kay McKay!"
Then the man in the forest who now was lying flat behind a birch-tree, answered calmly: "You, in your Swiss uniform of artillery, over there, what do you want of me?"
"So you are there!" cried the Swiss, striving to pierce the foliage with eager eyes. "It is you, is it not, Kay McKay?"
"I've answered, have I not?"
"Are you indeed then that same Kay McKay of the Intelligence Service, United States Army?"
"You appear to think so. I am Kay McKay; that is answer enough for you."
"Your comrade is with you--Evelyn Erith?"
"None of your business," returned McKay, coolly.
"Very well; let it be so then. But that dead man there--why did you kill your American comrade?"
"He was a camouflaged Boche," said McKay contemptously. "And I am very sure that you're another--you there, in your foolish Swiss uniform. So say what you have to say and clear out!"
The officer came close to the edge of the chasm: "I can not expect you to believe me," he said, "and yet I really am what I appear to be, an officer of Swiss Mountain Artillery. If you think I am something else why do you not shoot me?"
McKay was silent. "Nobody would know," said the other. "You can kill me very easily. I should fall into the ravine--down through that lake of cloud below. Nobody would ever find me. Why don't you shoot?"
"I'll shoot when I see fit," retorted McKay in a sombre voice. Presently he added in tones that rang a little yet trembled too--perhaps from physical reasons--"What do you want of a hunted man like me?"
"I want you to leave Swiss territory!"
"Leave!" McKay's laugh was unpleasant. "You know damned well I can't leave with Les Errues woods crawling alive with Huns."
"Will you leave the canton of Les Ernies, McKay, if I show you a safe route out?"