The Wolf Hunters: A Tale of Adventure in the Wilderness. James Oliver Curwood

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      A hundred yards away, almost concealed among the trees, was a cabin. Even from where they stood they could see that it was deserted. Snow was drifted high about it. No chimney surmounted its roof. Nowhere was there a sign of life.

      Slowly the hunters approached. It was evident that the cabin was very old. The logs of which it was built were beginning to decay. A mass of saplings had taken root upon its roof, and everything about it gave evidence that it had been erected many years before. The door, made of split timber and opening toward the lake, was closed; the one window, also opening upon the lake, was tightly barred with lengths of sapling.

      Mukoki tried the door, but it resisted his efforts. Evidently it was strongly barred from within.

      Curiosity now gave place to astonishment.

      How could the door be locked within, and the window barred from within, without there being somebody inside?

      For a few moments the three stood speechless, listening.

      "Looks queer, doesn't it?" spoke Wabi softly.

      Mukoki had dropped on his knees beside the door. He could hear no sound. Then he kicked off his snow-shoes, gripped his belt-ax and stepped to the window.

      A dozen blows and one of the bars fell. The old Indian sniffed suspiciously, his ear close to the opening. Damp, stifling air greeted his nostrils, but still there was no sound. One after another he knocked off the remaining bars and thrust his head and shoulders inside. Gradually his eyes became accustomed to the darkness and he pulled himself in.

      Half-way—and he stopped.

      "Go on, Muky," urged Wabi, who was pressing close behind.

      There came no answer from the old Indian. For a full minute he remained poised there, as motionless as a stone, as silent as death.

      Then, very slowly—inch by inch, as though afraid of awakening a sleeping person, he lowered himself to the ground. When he turned toward the young hunters it was with an expression that Rod had never seen upon Mukoki's face before.

      "What is it, Mukoki?"

      The old Indian gasped, as if for fresh air.

      "Cabin—she filled with twent' t'ousand dead men!" he replied.

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