<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2>
<h3>CANINE VAGARIES</h3>
<p>The last stage of the girls’ journey––the ride home
from the ranch––was like some horrible nightmare.
It was as though recollection had suddenly turned
itself into a hideous, tangible form which was pursuing
them over the dark expanse of prairie. Even their
horses seemed to share something of their riders’ fears,
for their light springing stride never slackened during
that ten miles’ stretch, and they had to be literally
forced down to a walk to give them the necessary
“breathing.” Like their riders, the animals’ one idea
seemed to be to reach the security of the farm with all
possible dispatch.</p>
<p>The farm dogs heralded their approach, and when
the girls slid down from their saddles Hephzibah was
at the threshold waiting for them. The rest of the
evening was spent in recounting their adventures.
Hephzibah listened to their narrative, filled with superstitious
emotion whilst endeavouring to treat the
matter in what she deemed a practical, common-sense
manner. She was profoundly impressed. Hervey
was there, but chose to treat their story with uncompromising
incredulity. So little was he interested,
although he listened to what was said, as to rouse the
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_182' name='page_182'></SPAN>182</span>
indignation of both girls, and only his sudden departure
to bed saved a stormy ending to the scene.</p>
<p>It was not until the house was locked up, and
Prudence and Alice were preparing to retire––they
shared the same bedroom––that Hephzibah Malling
dropped her mask of common-sense and laid bare the
quaintly superstitious side of her character. The
good farm-wife had not lived on the prairie all her
life without contracting to the full the superstitions
which always come to those whose lives are spent in
such close communion with Nature. She could talk
freely with these two girls when no one else was
present. She had heard a hundred times the legends
pertaining to the obscure valley of Owl Hoot, but
this was the first time that she had heard the account
of these things from eye-witnesses.</p>
<p>She came into the girls’ bedroom arrayed in a red
flannel dressing-gown, which had shrunk considerably
under the stress of many washings, and her night-cap
with its long strings, white as driven snow, enveloped
her head like a miniature sun-bonnet. She came
with an excuse upon her lips, and seated herself in
a rigid rush-bottomed chair. Prudence was brushing
her hair and Alice was already in bed.</p>
<p>“My dears,” she said, as she plumped herself down;
she was addressing them both, but her round eyes
were turned upon Alice, who was sitting up in bed with
her hands clasped about her knees, “I’ve been thinking
that maybe we might ask young Mr. Chillingwood
out here. It’s quite a time since I’ve seen him. He
used to come frequent-like before––before––” with a
sharp glance over at her daughter, “a few months
back. He’s a good lad, and I thought as he’d make
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_183' name='page_183'></SPAN>183</span>
quite a companion for Hervey. An’ it ’ud do ’em a
deal of good to air them spare rooms. I’m sure
they’re smelling quite musty. What say?”</p>
<p>Alice blushed and Hephzibah’s old eyes twinkled
with pleasure. Prudence answered at once––</p>
<p>“That’s a good idea, mother, I’ll write to him at
once for you.” Then she turned her smiling face
upon the old lady and shook a forefinger at her.
“You’re an arch-plotter, lady mother. Look at Alice’s
face. That’s not sunburn, I know.”</p>
<p>“Maybe it isn’t––maybe it isn’t,” replied Mrs.
Malling, with a comfortable chuckle, whilst her fat
face was turned up towards a gorgeous wool-worked
text which hung directly over the head of the bed,
“though I’ll not say but what a day in the sun
like she’s just had mightn’t have redded the skin
some.”</p>
<p>“I am very sun-burnt,” said Alice consciously.</p>
<p>“Why, we’ve been in the forest, where there’s no
sun, nearly all day,” exclaimed Prudence quickly.</p>
<p>“Ah, them forests––them forests,” observed Hephzibah,
in a pensive tone of reflection. “Folks says
strange things about them forests.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” put in Alice, glad to turn attention from
herself, “usually folks talk a lot of nonsense when
they attribute supernatural things to certain places.
But for once they’re right, mother Hephzy; I shall
never disbelieve in ghosts again. Oh, the horror of
it––it was awful,” and the girl gave a shudder of
genuine horror.</p>
<p>“And could you see through ’em?” asked the old
lady, in a tone of suppressed excitement.</p>
<p>“No, mother,” chimed in Prudence, leaving the
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_184' name='page_184'></SPAN>184</span>
dressing-table and seating herself on the patchwork
coverlet of the bed. “They seemed quite––solid.”</p>
<p>“But they wore long robes,” said Alice.</p>
<p>“Did they now?” said Mrs. Malling, wagging her
head meaningly. “But the lore has it that spectres is
flimsy things as ye can see through––like the steam
from under the lid of a stewpan.”</p>
<p>“Ye––es,” said Alice thoughtfully.</p>
<p>“All I can say is, that I wonder George Iredale
can live beside that graveyard. I tell you, mother,
there’s no arguing away what we saw. They came
up out of one of those graves and marched in a
procession into the ruined dead-house,” said Prudence
seriously.</p>
<p>“And my mare nearly threw me in her fright.”
Alice’s face had paled at the recollection.</p>
<p>Hephzibah nodded complacently. She was thoroughly
enjoying herself.</p>
<p>“True––true. That’s just how ’tis. Animals has
an instinct that ain’t like to human. They sees more.
Now maybe your horses just stood of a tremble,
bimeby like? That’s how it mostly takes ’em.”</p>
<p>Under any other circumstances the two girls would
probably have laughed at the good lady’s appreciation
of the supposed facts. But their adventures were of
too recent a date; besides, they believed themselves.
The gloom of the forest seemed to have got into
their bones, and the horrid picture was still with
them.</p>
<p>“The Haunted Hill,” said Prudence musingly. “I
don’t think I ever heard in what way the valley was
haunted. Have you, mother?”</p>
<p>“Sakes alive, girl, yes. It’s the way you have said,
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_185' name='page_185'></SPAN>185</span>
with fantastic fixin’s added accordin’ to taste. That’s
how it come I never believed. Folks disagreed about
the spooks. They all allowed as the place was
haunted, but their notions wasn’t just alike. Your
poor father, child, was a man o’ sense, an’ he argued
as plain as a tie-post. He said there was fabrications
around that valley ’cause of the variating yarns, and
I wouldn’t gainsay him. But, as Sarah says, when
the washing don’t dry white there’s mostly a prairie
fire somewheres around. Your father was that set on
his point that he wouldn’t never go an’ see for himself,
although, I do say, I urged him to it for the sake of
truth.”</p>
<p>Prudence yawned significantly and Alice had
snuggled down on to her pillow. The former
clambered in beneath the clothes.</p>
<p>“Well, mother, all I can say is, that never again,
unless I am forced to, will I visit Owl Hoot. And
under any circumstances I will never run the risk of
getting benighted there.”</p>
<p>“Well, well,” said the farm-wife, rising heavily to
her feet and preparing to depart, “maybe George
would like to hear about the thing you’ve seen when
he comes back.” She paused on her way to the
door, and turned an earnest face upon the two
girls. “Say, children, you didn’t see no blue lights,
did ye?”</p>
<p>“No, mother Hephzy,” said Alice sleepily. “There
were no blue lights.”</p>
<p>“Ah,” in a tone of relief. “There’s no gainsaying
the blue lights. They’re bad. It means death,
children, death, does the blue light––sure.” And the
good lady passed out of the room with the shuffling
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_186' name='page_186'></SPAN>186</span>
gait which a pair of loose, heelless slippers contrived
to give her.</p>
<p>“Prue,” said Alice, when the door had closed,
“when are you going to ask Robb to come?”</p>
<p>“As soon as possible, if you like.”</p>
<p>“Thanks. Good-night, dear; mother Hephzy is a
sweet old thing.”</p>
<p>The two girls turned over, and in a few moments
were sleeping soundly. It would have taken more
than the recollections of their adventures to banish
sleep from their tired eyes. They slept the sweet
refreshing sleep of those who have passed their
waking hours in the strong, bracing air of the prairie.</p>
<p>Two days later Hervey was abroad early. He
was cleaning his guns outside the back door of the
house. Two weapons were lying upon a large dust
sheet which was spread out upon the ground. The
guns were in pieces, and each portion had been carefully
oiled and wiped. He was now devoting his
attention to a heavy revolver.</p>
<p>Prudence was standing in the kitchen doorway
watching her brother. Andy was over by the barn
superintending the dispatch of the teams to the
harvest fields; the hands were preparing to depart
to their work. Prudence’s early morning work was
in the creamery.</p>
<p>Hervey looked up from the weapon he was cleaning,
and turned his great eyes upon his sister.</p>
<p>“When is this fellow coming out here?” he asked
in a tone of irritation. His question was merely the
result of his own train of thought. He had not been
speaking of any one in particular.</p>
<p>“Who? Robb Chillingwood?”</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_187' name='page_187'></SPAN>187</span></div>
<p>“Yes, of course. I’ve not heard of any one else’s
coming.”</p>
<p>“We’ve asked him for a fortnight to-day. Why?”</p>
<p>Hervey ran the cleaning-rod through a couple of
the chambers of the pistol before he spoke again.
The rag jammed in the barrel and entailed a hard
pull to extract it.</p>
<p>“Who asked him to come?” he went on, as he
re-adjusted the piece of rag in the eye of the rod.</p>
<p>“Mother did. He’s a very nice fellow.” Prudence
looked over at the parade of “Shire” teams as they
started for the fields. “Alice and he are engaged to
be married, you know.”</p>
<p>“And I suppose he’s coming out here to ‘spoon’
her––ugh! It’s sickening.”</p>
<p>“Don’t be so brutal,” the girl replied sharply.</p>
<p>“Brutal?” Hervey laughed coarsely. “You’re
getting particular. The house won’t be a fit place
to live in with an engaged couple in it. I should
have thought mother would have known better than
to have asked him.”</p>
<p>“Don’t be absurd.”</p>
<p>Prudence moved from her stand. The dog, Neche,
had slowly emerged from round the corner of the
barn, and was now mouching leisurely towards her.
She went over to meet him and caress his great ugly
head.</p>
<p>“I’m not absurd.” Hervey followed her movements
with no very friendly gaze. He hated with
an unreasonable hatred to see her go near the dog.
“I know what engaged couples are. Look at the
way some of the clowns around here carry on with
their girls. When Mr. Robb Chillingwood takes up
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_188' name='page_188'></SPAN>188</span>
his abode here, I shall depart, I tell you straight.
I think mother should have consulted me first. But,
there, I suppose that little vixen Alice arranged it
all. I hate that chum of yours.”</p>
<p>“There’s nothing like mutual regard, whatever
its quality,” laughed Prudence; but there was a look
of anger in her deep brown eyes. “You are at
liberty to please yourself as to your goings or
comings––they make no difference to the work of
the farm.”</p>
<p>The girl’s face was turned defiantly upon her
brother. Hervey spun the chambers of the pistol
round. His eyes remained upon the weapon, and
his forefinger pressed sharply upon the trigger. He
looked thoughtfully over the fore-sight and rested
the pistol in the crook of his upraised, bent left arm.
His attitude was one of taking steady aim. He
made no reply.</p>
<p>Suddenly Prudence felt the bristling of Neche’s
mane under her hand. And she sought to soothe
him. This dog’s displays of sudden temper were
as unaccountable as they were fierce.</p>
<p>“What are you going to do to-day?” she asked,
as her brother did not speak and the dog quietened.</p>
<p>“Going over to Iredale’s place. Why?”</p>
<p>“When shall you return?”</p>
<p>“Don’t know.” Hervey turned; his pistol was
pointing towards his sister.</p>
<p>“Well, what about the ‘thresher’? You and Andy
were going to get it–––Look out!”</p>
<p>Her exclamation came with a shriek. The great
husky had dashed from her side and made a charge
towards its master. Its lips were drawn up, and its
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_189' name='page_189'></SPAN>189</span>
fearful, bared fangs gleamed in the morning light.
Hervey lowered his weapon with a laugh. The dog
paused irresolute, then, with a wicked growl, it
turned back and sought again the girl’s caressing
hand.</p>
<p>“One of these days I’ll give you something to
snarl at, you d–––d cur,” Hervey said, between his
clenched teeth. Then he turned at the sound of his
mother’s voice. The old lady was standing in the
kitchen doorway.</p>
<p>“What’s all the fuss about?” she asked, turning
her round eyes from one to the other. “Quarrelling
again, I’ll be bound. Breakfast’s ready, so just come
in, both of you, or the ‘slap-jacks’ ’ll all be spoiled.”</p>
<p>Prudence glanced covertly in the dog’s direction
as she obeyed the summons. She was fearful that
the brute contemplated a further attack upon its
master. In spite of the constant bickerings which
took place between these two, the girl had no desire
that her brother should be hurt.</p>
<p>Hervey spoke not a word during the morning
meal, except to demand the food he required, and
his surliness had a damping effect on those about
him, and it was with a sigh of relief that his mother
at last rose from the table and began to gather the
plates preparatory to clearing away. Once, as Hervey
moved slowly towards the door to return to his guns,
she looked as though she were going to speak. But
the words died on her lips, and she ambled off to the
wash-house without speaking.</p>
<p>The atmosphere cleared when Hervey mounted
his horse and rode off. His mother looked after
him, sighed and shrugged; then she went on with
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_190' name='page_190'></SPAN>190</span>
her work with a touch of her old cheerful manner
about her. No complaint ever passed her lips, but,
to those who knew the kindly old face, the change
that had come over it was very apparent. The
smooth forehead was ploughed deeply with wrinkles
which were new to it, and the eyes had lost something
of their expression of placid content.</p>
<p>But Hervey travelled his own road at his own
gait. His thoughts he kept to himself. The man
was more or less inscrutable to those about him.</p>
<p>To-day he had taken his dog with him. He had
at length made up his mind to rid himself of the
brute. The exhibition of that morning had decided
him upon a course which he had long meditated, but
had always failed to carry out when the critical
moment arrived.</p>
<p>The hound limped along beside its master’s horse
as they plunged into the deep woods of the Owl
Hoot Valley. Nor did he show the least sign of
wishing to wander from “heel.” He followed on
the beaten track, stubbornly keeping pace with
the horse in spite of the fact of only possessing
three legs.</p>
<p>Arrived at the ranch Hervey handed over his
horse to Chintz and proceeded into the woods on
foot. To-day he meant to move out in a new
direction. The valley beyond the Haunted Hill
had been done regularly by him; now he was intent
upon the hills on the south. Access to this region
was obtained by the one other practicable exit from
the valley; namely, the Haunted Hill, and then by
bearing away to the right. He breasted the steep
slopes of the hill and soon came upon the narrow
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_191' name='page_191'></SPAN>191</span>
overgrown trail which at some period had been hewn
by the early settlers of the district.</p>
<p>Here he tramped along steadily, the hound limping
at his heels. He walked slowly, with that long, lazy
gait of a man accustomed to walking great distances.
He gave little heed to his surroundings as far as the
beauties of the place were concerned. He was not
the man to regard Nature’s handiwork in the light
of artistic effects. His great roving eyes were never
still; they moved swiftly from side to side, eagerly
watching for the indication of game either furred or
feathered. It seemed as though this sport was as
the breath of life to him. Now and again his gaze
would turn upon the hound behind him, and, on
these occasions, the movement was evidently the
result of some sudden, unpleasant thought, and
had nothing to do with the sportsman’s watchfulness
which makes him seek to discover, in the
alert canine attitude, some keener instinct of the
presence of game than is possessed by the human
being.</p>
<p>Almost without forewarning the road, after rounding
an abrupt bend, suddenly opened out on to the
graveyard clearing. It was the first time in Hervey’s
many wanderings in these regions that he had
actually come across this obscure little cemetery.
For a moment, as he gazed upon it, he hardly
realized what it was. Then, as he noted the ruined
hut in the middle, the wooden fencing broken and
tumbled about the place, and the armless and sadly
leaning crosses and the various-shaped slabs of stone
which marked the graves, he remembered the weird
story his sister and her friend had told, and, advancing,
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_192' name='page_192'></SPAN>192</span>
he leant upon one of the fence posts and looked
about him curiously.</p>
<p>He stood for some moments quite still. The place
was silent with the peaceful calm of a sweltering
August day. Hervey’s eyes moved from one vaguely
outlined grave to another, and unconsciously he
counted them. Thirteen graves in all were visible
amongst the long grass. Then his eyes turned upon
the ruined hut. The roof had fallen in, and broken
rafters protruded above the still standing walls of
pine logs. The casing of the doorway remained, but
the door had gone, and in its place hung a piece of
tattered sacking. There was one small window, but
this had been boarded over. The building was
largely covered with lichen, and weeds had grown
out of the mud-filling daubed in between the logs.
There was something very desolate but wondrously
peaceful about the place.</p>
<p>The master’s curiosity seemed to have communicated
itself to the hound, for the animal slowly,
and with uncertain tread, moved off within the enclosure.
Neche’s movements were furtive; strangely
so. But though Hervey’s eyes now followed the
dog’s actions, it was merely the result of the attraction
of the one moving object within the range of his
vision, and not with any purpose of his own. In
fact, it is doubtful if, at first, the animal’s movements
conveyed any meaning to the watching man. The
moments slipped away and the dog snuffed inquiringly
at the various curious objects its wolfish
eyes beheld.</p>
<p>It stretched out its neck across one grave and
snuffed at the projecting arm of a wooden cross.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_193' name='page_193'></SPAN>193</span>
Then it drew back sharply with its little upstanding
ears twitching with a motion of attention and canine
uncertainty. Then the wolf head was turned in the
direction of its master, and its unblinking gaze was
fixed upon his face. The animal stood thus with
ears constantly moving, turning this way and that,
listening for any strange sound that might chance
upon the air. Then with a dignified movement, so
expressive of ill-concealed curiosity, it turned away
to continue investigations in other directions.</p>
<p>The dog’s show of indifference only lasted for a
moment. In limping towards the central hut the
animal stepped on to the only path which was not
overgrown with rank vegetation. The instant its
foot touched the sandy soil its head went down until
its nose touched the ground. Then followed a loud
snuff. The dog’s great mane bristled ominously, and
a low growl sounded significantly upon the still air.
Now Hervey’s gaze instantly became one of keen
intelligence. His thoughts no longer wandered, but
were of the present. He watched the movements of
the hound with the profoundest interest.</p>
<p>The dog moved a step or two forward. Its attitude
was as though it wished to make no mistake.
The snuffing came short, quick and incisive. Then
the great head was raised, and the snuffing continued
upon the air. Now the nose turned in the direction
of the hut, then it turned back to the opposite
direction of the path. Hervey remained motionless
where he stood, and his thoughts were filled with
wondering speculation.</p>
<p>Suddenly the dog darted off down the path, away
from the hut. There was something very like the
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_194' name='page_194'></SPAN>194</span>
sleuth in its attitude. Nor did it pause until the
path terminated at a stone-covered grave. Here the
brute’s eagerness was displayed to the full. Its
excitement was intense. The low growls became
more frequent and tense. The bristling mane, so
thick and wolfish, fairly quivered in its rigidity.
Balancing itself on its one hind foot it tore away
at the baked earth around the stone with its huge
fore-paws, as though it would tear up the whole
grave and lay bare the mouldering bones it contained.</p>
<p>Hervey encouraged the eager hound.</p>
<p>“See––ek ’em,” he hissed, in an undertone.</p>
<p>The dog responded, making the earth fly beneath
its sharp claws. The animal’s excitement had communicated
itself to its master, and the man’s great
eyes glowed strangely. He now moved from his
position and came over to the dog’s side. He
stooped down and examined the place where the
dog had been working. He pushed his fingers deep
into the hollow which the vigorous claws had made.
The next instant he drew them back sharply, and a
faint ejaculation escaped him. He straightened himself
up and pushed the dog roughly away from the
spot.</p>
<p>“Come here, you cur,” he muttered. “Come over
to the hut.”</p>
<p>The dog obeyed with reluctance, and Hervey had
to keep a clutch upon the beast’s mane to hold him
to his side. He half dragged him and half led him
up the path until they neared the ruin. Then with a
bound the dog leapt forward and rushed in beneath
the sacking which covered the doorway, giving tongue
to little yelps of eagerness as he went.</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_195' name='page_195'></SPAN>195</span></div>
<p>Hervey was about to follow, but a strange sound
beneath his feet attracted him and made him pause.
He listened. The noise went on. It was very faint
but quite distinct, and very like the regular fall of a
hammer. He called instantly to the dog. Neche’s
head appeared from beneath the canvas, but he
showed unusual signs of disobedience. Instantly,
Hervey seized him by the mane, then, subdued and
sulky, the animal allowed himself to be dragged from
the building. Hervey did not relax his hold until he
and the dog were well clear of the place, and were
once more buried from view within the depths of
the woods.</p>
<p>For a moment, when the hound regained its freedom,
it stood still and turned its head back towards
the place they had just left, but a threatening command
from the man brought him to heel at once, and
there was no further bother. It was strange the relations
which existed between this curiously-assorted
pair. There could be no doubt that Hervey hated
the dog, and the dog’s regard for its master was of
doubtful quality. As a rule, it would fawn in a most
servile manner, but its attitude, the moment its
master’s back was turned, was always morose and
even truculent. Hervey had told his sister that the
dog was as treacherous as an Indian. But Hervey
was not a keen observer, or he would have added,
“and as wicked as a rattlesnake.”</p>
<p>The two tramped on all that day, but there was
little shooting done. Hervey also seemed to have
utterly forgotten his intention to shoot the dog.
Time after time jack-rabbits got up and dashed off
into the woods, but there followed no report of the
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_196' name='page_196'></SPAN>196</span>
gun. Prairie chicken in the open glades whirred up
from the long succulent grass, but Hervey paid no
heed, and when several deer trotted across the man’s
path, and the gun remained tucked under his arm, it
plainly showed the pre-occupied state of his mind.</p>
<p>The truth was that Hervey was thinking with a
profundity that implied something which must very
nearly affect his personal interests. And these personal
interests, at the moment, centred round George
Iredale and––the graveyard. He had discredited
the story the girls had told as he would discredit
anything which pertained to the supernatural. But
now he had learned something which put an
entirely different meaning to the adventures the
two girls had related. It is easy enough to mystify
the simple human mind, but dogs’ instincts
are purely practical, and, as Hervey argued, ghosts
do not leave a hot scent. Neche had lit upon a hot
scent. At first the man had been doubtful as to
what that scent was. Graveyards on the prairie are
places favoured by the hungry coyote, and he had
been inclined to believe that such was the trail which
the dog had discovered. But his own investigations
had suggested something different.</p>
<p>The grave which the dog had attacked so furiously
was no ordinary grave, for, in thrusting his hand into
the hole the dog had made at the edge, he had found
that beneath the stone was a cavity. Then had come
the recollection of the faint pounding he had distinctly
heard beneath the ground. And instantly the story
the girls had related assumed a human aspect. Without
hesitation he told himself that they had not seen
spectres marching in procession through the mysterious
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_197' name='page_197'></SPAN>197</span>
graveyard, but real, live, human beings. What,
he asked himself, was the meaning of it? What
strange occupation was George Iredale’s in this lonely
valley? Where was Iredale now? Where did he go
to when he moved out of the district on business,
and what was the nature of the business? To
Hervey it was no great step from questions of this
sort to a general answer. And, when he reviewed
the isolation, the secret nightly doings, the unsuitability
of the district to cattle-raising, and the great
wealth of the owner, all made since his sojourn in
the country, it was no difficult task for his thoughts
to suggest some felonious undertaking. But the one
question for which he could find no reasonable reply
was that which asked the nature of the doings which
seemed to go on at night in the shadow of those
dense forests.</p>
<p>He tramped on heedless of the passing time. His
discovery had roused him to a pitch of excitement
which swayed his thoughts in the direction they
would naturally incline. In what manner could he
turn his discovery to account? His sense of proportion
quickly balanced his ideas. He must at all
costs learn the secret of the graveyard, and if it was,
as he believed, some “crooked” dealings upon which
Iredale was engaged, the rest would be easy. All he
wanted was money, and the owner of Lonely Ranch
had plenty and to spare.</p>
<p>The sun was quite low over the horizon when he at
length turned his steps again in the direction of the
ranch. He was hungry; he had eaten nothing since
breakfast.</p>
<p>Hervey was not the man to be disturbed by any
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_198' name='page_198'></SPAN>198</span>
scruples with regard to the hospitality of the owner
of Lonely Ranch. He partook of the ample supper
which Chintz had prepared for him without the
slightest compunction. And when it was finished he
idled the time away smoking one of Iredale’s best
cigars with the utmost enjoyment. He watched the
shadows grow and deepen. He waited until the blue
vault of the sky had changed its hue to the indescribable
shadow which follows in the wake of the
daylight, and the sparkling diamonds of night shone
out upon its surface; then he called for his horse and
set out ostensibly for Loon Dyke.</p>
<p>He rode away down the valley until he was clear
of the woods; then, leaving the prairie trail, he turned
away to the right, and, describing a wide semi-circle,
doubled back into the woods again, taking a course
which lay to the eastwards, parallel to the valley of
the ranch. Now he quickened his pace, and the
hound, limping laboriously at his horse’s heels, had
difficulty in keeping up with him. Nor did he draw
rein until he reached the wide hollow which backed
the graveyard hill. Here, however, he dismounted,
and secured his horse to a tree. Then he removed
the reins from his horse’s bridle, and proceeded to
secure the hound in an adjacent position. The night
had quite closed in and the darkness of the woods
was profound when he started to make his way up
the side of the hill in the direction of the graveyard.</p>
<p>Hervey paused for nothing. His mind was clearly
made up. Whatever weakness may have been his
there was none to be traced in his actions now. He
saw ahead of him the possibilities of furthering his
own interests, and he revelled in the thought of
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_199' name='page_199'></SPAN>199</span>
George Iredale’s wealth. The despicable methods
he was adopting troubled him not in the least.
Iredale should pay dearly if his work partook of the
nature of crime.</p>
<p>Hervey entertained no friendship for any one.
The greed of gold was his ruling passion. He cared
nothing from whom it was obtained, or by what
means. If things were as he believed them to be,
then was this a truly golden opportunity. And he
would bleed Iredale to the very limits of his resources.</p>
<p>He reached the outskirts of the clearing, but he
did not leave the obscurity of the forest. The black
recesses served him for a hiding-place from which he
could obtain a perfect view of the ghostly enclosure.
The tumbled hut and the weirdly-outlined graves
with their crowning monuments showed up distinctly
in the starlight. And he settled himself for a long vigil.</p>
<p>An hour passed without result. It was weary
work, this waiting. He dared not move about, for at
every movement of his feet upon the ground the
rotting vegetation crunched and crackled loudly in
the profundity of silence. The man’s patience, however,
was long-enduring under such circumstances.
He told himself that the result would more than
recompense him for the trouble. He had everything
to gain, and the task appealed to him. Two hours
passed and still not a sound broke the awful stillness.
Then came the first sign. Suddenly a bright light
shone out down in the valley in the direction where
Iredale’s house stood. It gleamed luridly, almost
red, in its depth of yellow. Hervey held his breath,
so deep was his excitement and the feeling of anticipation.</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_200' name='page_200'></SPAN>200</span></div>
<p>The sudden appearance of the light was the signal
for further demonstration. The prolonged screech of
an owl replied to it. The screech, so shrill and ear-piercing,
gave the watcher such a nerve-racking
moment as to almost urge him to beat a hasty retreat.
But the cry died away, and, as the echoes grew fainter
and eventually became silent, he recovered himself.
A moment passed and another cry split the air, only
this time it came from across the valley on the
opposite heights. Hervey stood with ears straining.
He had detected something curious in the sound of
those cries. Then as the second died away a single
word muttered below his breath voiced his discovery.</p>
<p>“Human!” he said to himself, and a feeling of
unholy joy swept over him, and he drew a pistol from
his pocket and his hand gripped its butt significantly.</p>
<p>His eyes were still turned in the direction of the
house where the light was burning when a scraping
noise suddenly drew his attention to the graveyard
before him. The scraping continued, and sounded
like the grinding of an axe upon a whetstone. It
distinctly came from one of the graves, and, for a
moment, he experienced a shudder of superstitious
fear. The next moment he suppressed a chuckle as
he realized that the sound came from the grave at
the side of which Neche had made such a demonstration
that morning. He gazed in the direction, his
great eyes burning with the lurid fires of pent-up
excitement and speculation. What was the secret he
was about to learn? He longed to draw closer to the
spot, but he knew that he dared not move.</p>
<p>Suddenly a vague shadow loomed up from
amongst the grass which grew so rankly in the
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_201' name='page_201'></SPAN>201</span>
cemetery. Up, up it rose, black even against the
background of utter darkness in which the forest was
bathed. Hervey leaned forward, his eyes straining
and every nerve tense-drawn. What was this––thing?</p>
<p>The shadow paused. Then it rose higher. It
seemed to suddenly straighten up, and Hervey permitted
a deep breath to escape him. The black
figure had assumed the shape of a man, and the
form moved forward towards the log dead-house.
Then the waiting man saw that other figures were
following the first in rapid succession. Each figure
was bearing its burden. Some seemed to be carrying
bundles, some carried that which appeared to be
boxes, and others carried small square packages.
As Hervey’s eyes became used to the strange scene
he was able to distinguish something of the habiliments
of these denizens of the grave. He noted the
long, dark, smock-shaped garment each figure wore,
and, after a while, in the starlight, he was able to note
that most of them wore on their heads little skull-caps.
Then a muttered exclamation broke from his lips,
and in his tone was a world of satisfaction.</p>
<p>“Chinese!” he whispered. Then: “Traffic in
yellow, by all that’s holy!”</p>
<hr class='toprule' />
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_202' name='page_202'></SPAN>202</span>
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