us comfort of the man succumbing to cold and hunger.

CHAPTER TWELVE--THE STRANGE "CAT-HERMIT OF MOXIE"

Afterward it seemed that he began to dream. Somber individuals were
crushing his limbs between great rollers. Frisky little ghouls were
sticking needles into him, and there were so many needles that it seemed
that every inch of his skin was being tortured at the same instant.

[Illustration: Every inch of his skin was being tortured 197-224]

The agony grew intense. He was trying to cry out, and a giant hand was
over his mouth. And when the pain became so excruciating that it did not
seem as if nature could longer endure it, he opened his eyes.

A sludge-dish hooked to a beam shed its yellow glimmer of light upon a
strange interior.

There was no more strange figure in the place than Parker himself. He
was stripped and seated in a half-hogshead filled with water, from which
vapors were rising. His first wild thought was that the water was hot
and was blistering him. He screamed in the agony of alarm and strove to
rise.

But hands on his shoulders forced him down again. These hands were
rubbing snow upon him. Then the young man realized that his sensations
were produced by icy cold water. Parker felt that cloths bound snow and
ice to his ears and face.

A glance showed him that he was in a rude log camp. The chinked walls
were bare and solid. The interior was spacious, and a big fireplace
promised warmth.

The most astonishing of all in the place were its visible tenants--a
multitude of cats. Some were huddled on benches, their assorted colors
and markings composing a strange medley. Others stalked about the cabin.
Many sat before the embers in the fireplace. A half-score were grouped
about the hogshead and its occupant, with their tails wound round their
feet, and were solemnly observing the work of reanimating the stranger.
Here and there among taciturn felines of larger growth little spike-tail
kits were rolling, cuffing, frolicking and miauing. For a moment the
scene seemed a part of his delirium.

Parker turned round to survey his benefactor. He found him to be an old
man, shaggy of beard and hair. A pointed cap of fur covered his head.

He was dressed in rough garb--belted woolen jacket, trousers awkwardly
patched, leggings rolled above the knee, and yellow moccasins. Although
he was the ordinary type of the woods recluse, there was kindliness in
his expression, as well as a benignant gleam in