A grave frown puckered his forehead

  From the shaded side of the hut he put his fingers to his nose and waggled them in the direction of the grade, then he climbed back through the window. Inside, every vestige of impudence deserted him. A grave frown puckered his forehead as he seated himself thoughtfully on the solitary chair to sit like a statue staring at the floor. Certain sudden twistings of his clumsy frame revealed the vagrant meanderings of his mind, now satisfied and determined, now uncertain and reflective. Plainly it was a mind that refused to settle.   Thus he missed the first three low taps on the wall of his hut. When it was repeated he jerked his head nervously, stared for an appreciable moment at an upper corner of the room, gripped his fists and teeth, and whispered a soft response.   Werner's head appeared in the window space, smiled, pushed through, followed by a scrambling body. After him came Morani, Heppel, and eighteen villainous- looking companions. Werner, first to enter, as usual, selected the bunk, throwing himself on it with a cunning smile. He always thought too quickly for the others. His companions littered the floor, Koppy retaining the seat of state. Twenty-two vile-featured conspirators gathered in solemn conclave.   A twenty-third, not so vile-featured but swarthier of skin, sank softly against the logs at the rear of the shack, one ear pressed to a chink.   "You've gone the rounds?" demanded Koppy, probing each face in turn.   One of the men spoke hesitatingly: "Simoff's rifles gone. We find place--all gone."   Koppy turned on him. "Sure?" He knew the craven hearts and beclouding imaginations of these companions of his.