“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?”

And, as the other made no reply:  “You have no right to be here on neutral territory,” he added, “and my Government desires you to leave at once!”

“I have as much right here as the Huns have,” said McKay in his pleasant voice.

“Exactly.  And these Germans have no right here either!”

“That also is true,” rejoined McKay gently, “so why has your Government permitted the Hun to occupy the Canton of Les Errues?  Oh, don’t deny it,” he added wearily as the Swiss began to repudiate the accusation; “you’ve made Les Errues a No-Man’s Land, and it’s free hunting now!  If you’re sick of your bargain, send in your mountain troops and turn out the Huns.”

“And if I also send an escort and a free conduct for you and your comrade?”

“No.”

“You will not be harmed, not even interned.  We set you across our wire at Delle.  Do you accept?”

“No.”

“With every guarantee—­”

“You’ve made this forest a part of the world’s battle-field....  No, I shall not leave Les Errues!”

“Listen to reason, you insane American!  You can not escape those who are closing in on you—­those who are filtering the forest for you—­who are gradually driving you out into the eastern edges of Les Errues!  And what then, when at last you are driven like wild game by a line of beaters to the brink of the eastern cliffs?  There is no water there.  You will die of thirst.  There is no food.  What is there left for you to do with your back to the final precipice?”

McKay laughed a hard, unpleasant laugh:  “I certainly shall not tell you what I mean to do,” he said.  “If this is all you have to say to me you may go!”