Another time he came upon a
working-gang busy at hoeing weeds. They scarcely noticed him when he
came up, though they knew thoroughly well what was going on. It was no
affair of theirs that the enigmatical white men should be out trying to
kill each other, and whatever interest in the proceedings might be theirs
they were careful to conceal it from Sheldon. He ordered them to
continue hoeing weeds in a distant and out-of-the-way corner, and went on
with the pursuit of Tudor.
Tiring of the endless circling, Sheldon tried once more to advance
directly on his foe, but the latter was too crafty, taking advantage of
his boldness to fire a couple of shots at him, and slipping away on some
changed and continually changing course. For an hour they dodged and
turned and twisted back and forth and around, and hunted each other among
the orderly palms. They caught fleeting glimpses of each other and
chanced flying shots which were without result. On a grassy shelter
behind a tree, Sheldon came upon where Tudor had rested and smoked a
cigarette. The pressed grass showed where he had sat. To one side lay
the cigarette stump and the charred match which had lighted it. In front
lay a scattering of bright metallic fragments. Sheldon recognized their
significance.
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