The Huntress. Footner Hulbert

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      "We never should have stopped here," said Husky. "It looked bad – a deserted shack, with the roof in and all. Maybe the last man who lived here was mur – done away with!"

      Young Joe was beyond speech. White-faced and trembling violently, the big fellow clung to Shand like a child.

      "Oh, hell!" said Big Jack. "Nothing can happen to us if we stick together and keep the fire up!" His tone was less confident than the words.

      "All the wood's outside," stammered Husky.

      "Burn the furniture," suggested Big Jack.

      Suiting the action to the words, he put his barrel-stave rocker on the embers. It blazed up generously, filling every corner of the shack with light, and giving them more confidence. There were no further untoward sounds.

      Meanwhile the fifth man had been sleeping quietly in the corner. The one who goes to bed early in camp must needs learn to sleep through anything. The other men disregarded him.

      The table and the boxes followed the chair on the fire. The four discussed what had happened in low tones.

      "I noticed it first yesterday," said Big Jack.

      "Me, too," added Husky. "What did you see?"

      "Didn't see nothing." Jack glanced about him uneasily. "Don't know as it does any good to talk about it," he muttered.

      "We got to know what to do," said Shand.

      "Well, it was in the daytime, at that," Jack resumed. "I set a trap for skunks beside the trail over across the creek, and I went to see if I got anything. I was walkin' along not two hundred yards beyond the stable when something soft hit me on the back of the head. I was mad. I spun around to see who had done it. There wasn't nobody. I searched that piece of woods good. I'm sure there wasn't anybody there. At last I thought it was a trick of the senses like. Thought I was bilious maybe. Until I got the trap."

      "What was it hit you?" asked Husky.

      "I don't know. A lump of sod it felt like. I was too busy looking for who threw it to see."

      "What about the trap?" asked Shand.

      "I'm comin' to that. It was sprung, and there was a goose's quill stickin' in it. Now, I leave it to you if a wild goose ain't too smart to go in a trap. And if he did, he couldn't get a feather caught by the butt end, could he?"

      They murmured in astonishment.

      "Me," began Husky; "yesterday I was cuttin' wood for the fire a little way back in the bush, and I got het up and took off my sweater, the red one, and laid it on a log. I loaded up with an armful of wood and carried it to the pile outside the door here. I wasn't away two minutes, but when I went back to my axe the sweater was gone.

      "I thought one of you fellows took it. Remember, I asked you? I looked for it near an hour. Then I came in to my dinner. We was all here together, and I was the first to get up from the table. Well, sir, when I went back to my axe, there was the sweater where I first left it. Can you beat it? It was so damn queer I didn't like to say nothing."

      "What about you?" Jack asked of Shand.

      Shand nodded. "To-day when I walked up the shore there was something funny. I had a notion I was followed all the way. Couldn't shake it. Half a dozen times I turned short and ran into the bush to look. Couldn't see nothing. Just the same I was sure. No noise, you understand, just pad, pad on the ground that stopped when I stopped."

      "What do you know?" Jack asked in turn of Joe.

      "W – wait till I tell you," stammered Joe. "It's been with me two days. I couldn't bring myself to speak of it – thought you'd only laugh. I saw it a couple of times, flitting through the bush like. Once it laughed – "

      "What did it look like?" demanded Jack.

      "Couldn't tell you; just a shadow. This morning I was shaving outside. Had my mirror hanging from a branch around by the shore. I was nervous account of this, and I cut myself. See, there's the mark. I come to the house to get a rag.

      "You was all in plain sight – cookee inside, Jack and Husky sittin' at the door waitin' for breakfast, Shand in the stable. I could see him through the open door. He couldn't have got to the tree and back while I was in the house. When I got back my little mirror was hangin' there, but – "

      "Well?" demanded big Jack.

      "It was cracked clear across."

      "Oh, my God, a broken mirror!" murmured Husky.

      "I – I left it hanging," added Joe.

      Meanwhile the chair, the table, and the boxes were quickly consumed, and the fire threatened to die down, leaving them in partial obscurity – an alarming prospect. The only other movable was the bed.

      "What'll we do?" said Joe nervously. "We can't break it up without the axe, and that's outside."

      Husky's eye, vainly searching the cabin, was caught by the sleeping figure in the corner.

      "Send cookee out for wood," he said. "He hasn't heard nothing."

      "Sure," cried Joe, brightening, "and if there's anything out there we'll find out on him."

      "He'll see we've burned the stuff up," objected Shand, frowning.

      "What of it?" asked Big Jack. "He's got to see when he wakes. 'Tain't none of his business, anyhow."

      "Ho, Sam!" cried Husky.

      The recumbent figure finally stirred and sat up, blinking. "What do you want?" Sam demanded crossly.

      As soon as this young man opened his eyes it became evident that a new element had entered the situation. There was a subtle difference between the cook and his masters, easier to see than to define. There was no love lost on either side.

      Clearly he was not one of them, nor had he any wish to be. Sam's eyes, full of sleep though they were, were yet guarded and wary. There was a suggestion of scorn behind the guard. He looked very much alone in the cabin – and unafraid.

      He was as young as Joe, but lacked perhaps thirty pounds of the other youth's brawn. Yet Sam was no weakling either, but his slenderness was accentuated in that burly company.

      His eyes were his outstanding feature. They were of a deep, bright blue. They were both resolute and prone to twinkle. His mouth, that unerring index, matched the eyes in suggesting a combination of cheerfulness and firmness. It was the kind of mouth able to remain closed at need. He had thick, light-brown hair, just escaping the stigma of red.

      There was something about him – fair-haired, slender, and resolute – that excited kindness. There lay the difference between him and the other men.

      "We want wood," said Husky arrogantly. "Go out and get it."

      An honest indignation made the sleepy eyes strike fire. "Wood!" he cried. "What's the matter with you? It's just outside the door. What do you want to wake me for?"

      "Ah!" snarled Husky. "You're the cook, ain't you? What do we hire you for?"

      "You'd think you paid me wages to hear you," retorted Sam. "I get my grub, and I earn it."

      "You СКАЧАТЬ