* * *

The hole into the other world stayed there, as unobtrusively fixed as if
it had been there since the beginning of time. Nothing came through, and
nothing moved in the other world but leaves stirring now and then with a
breeze, clouds drifting across the sky. Ed began to realize it was
getting late in the morning, and he had not yet had breakfast. He left
old Tom to watch the hole, got stiffly to his feet and went on down the
trail to get the pail of water he had started for. From the cabin door,
he could still see the hole into the other world. He kept one eye on it
while he cooked breakfast.

As he was finishing his second cup of coffee, he noticed the view into
the other world becoming duller, dimming in a peculiar fashion. He left
the dirty dishes and went over to look more closely. What was happening,
he found, was just that it was getting dark in the other world. The
effect was strange, much like looking out the door of a brightly lighted
room at dusk. The edges of the hole cast a very clearly marked shadow
now, and outside this shaft of sunlight the view faded, until a few
yards away it was impossible to make out any detail.

Presently the stars came out. Ed was not an astronomer, but he had a
woodsman's knowledge of the sky. He could find nothing familiar in any
of the stars he saw. In some way, that was more unsettling than the hole
itself had been.

After he had finished the dishes, he cut two gee-pole spruce, trimmed
them, and stuck one on each side of the hole. He got some thin thread he
used to tie beaver snares and wove it back and forth between the poles,
rigging a tin can alarm. It seemed likely someone or something had put
the hole there, it had not just happened. If anything came through, Ed
wanted to know about it. Just to make extra sure, he got some number
three traps and made a few blind sets in front of the hole.

Then he went back to his chores. Whatever was going to happen with the
hole would happen when it happened, and winter was still coming.

He set some babiche to soak for mending his snowshoes. He ran the net he
had set at the edge of the eddy for late silvers and took out two fish.
Old Tom had pretty well cleaned up the mice in the cellar hole, but they
were still burrowing around the sills of the lean-to. Ed took a shovel
and opened up a hole so Tom could get under the lean-to floor. He got
out his needles, palm, thread, and wax; and mended his winter moccasi