The Challis messenger. (Challis, Idaho) 1912-current, 1924-04-02
A Tale of the Flatwoods
By DAVID ANDERSON
Author Of The Blns Moon"
Copyright By The Bobbs-Nerrin c.
CHAPTER xIV-Continued.

H.
The tracks had been made by a boot
much worn and frayed. The man that
made them must have been large and
heavy, for his boot heel had denied
deep into the floor boards, and the
length of his stride indicated him TO
be little, II any, under six feet. The
profusion Of tracks, together with a
number Of half-burned matches scat
tered about the floor, indicated that
he had been there some time-possibly
several times.
The woodsman found himself won
dering what manner of man he could
have been, and what his purpose. And
why did he bring a lamp instead Of a
candle? Lamps were none too plenty
in the Flatwoods.' Again there came
over him that strangely disquietlng
premonition Of danger-intangible; in
defnable; deadly deliberate.
Everything pointed to the conclusion
that the cabins unknown visitor would
come again-probably with the night
The lamp on the box, the blanket ready
to hang over the window, were not
without purpose. What that purpose
might prove to be could only be con-
5ectured-possibly horse stealing. But
no, or why lamp instead of candle?
He glanced up at the loft-except
for few boards lying loose and scat
tered about upon the joists, the cabin
vas open to the roof; he looked
around into the dim far corner back
of the door-it was half filled with
a clutter of rubbish, broken boxes and
the like-but no tracks led that way.
Using the greatest care to conceal
his footprints, he opened the door,
stepped cautiously out, closed it and,
after a critical look about the sur
rounding weeds and bushes, slipped
away up the side of the timbered bluff,
through the woods and back to his IN
finished chores.
After a hasty supper, he drew out
MS revolver; bent over 1t a brief but
thoroughly competent instant of in
spection by the candle; tried the trig-
ger-pull; twirled the cylinder; dropped
candle and laid his hand to the door
latch. The warning of the mountain
girl crossed his mind-he turned back;
closed the hearth of the cook stove to
hide its light; opened the door softly
and stepped out into the gathering
night toward the dead woodchopper's
cabin.
The cloud-bank had dissolved in the
west when he again reached the Ill
omened howell and the sky was hang
ing out its stars-the big ones already
out, and the little ones coming.
He again crept down the wooded
face of the bluff and, under cover Of
the fallen oak, festooned with the wild
vines, stole up to the chink
IN the wall and peeped between the !
ogs. The cabin was apparently empty |
IF Its unknown intruder.
After listening intently for some
line he again stole around the wall to |
he door, pushed 1t slowly open and |
AS soon as his eyes grew ac-
to the gloom, he saw that the
Dom was just as he had left 1t a few
hours earlier.
Not daring to venture out on the
loor, the light being too dim again to
isk hiding his trail by stepping In the
racks, he reached up, caught one of
he joists and. swinging from hand to
land, crossed to the far corner of the
Dom; concealed himself behind the old
oards and boxes Of the rubbish heap
nd sat gripping his sore shoulder
he exertion had opened the cash, and
e could feel the blood crawling down
is side.
There Is something depressing, fear
ONE, about entering an old deserted
ouse-especially after nightfall And
his was the cabin of dead Henry
pencer. Few flatwoodsmen would
are to go near it-much less into it
[ such an hour.
Jack watched the last faint light
rom the west die out in the smudged
'indow-so foul with clay that he had
OF been able to make out more than
he bare outline of the face that had
eered through 1t few hours before.
lie knew the bats were darting about |
/ the cabin, for the dark was alive /
18th the click Of their teeth. A
,reech owl shivered his lonesome /
all from an outstanding branch of |
lie fallen oak.
The woodsman half started, listened t
osely, smiled. The sound was genu- t
e-it was a screech owl. e
The low wash of Eagle run. tapping v
lie rocks In its shallow bed, came up
cross the lonely road; the melan- v
holy note of a whippoorwill carried t
,wn out of the woods. b
A sound fell upon the night-the low L
rish Of weeds in the yard-and the 4
oodsman grew tense and strained II
here followed guarded football; n
md fumbled over the door, 1t d
,ened; a heavy step creaked the
gglng floor; form bulked huge t,
ID black in the gloom; a hand and fl
m passed across the window and IL
ing the blanket into place. b,
A match scraped-one of the old
cbfNpaJ bind tbof cnuttar u-bi1a N