e might take some of it to pay his debts. I think
his relatives in England supply him with funds. Here we are at the
entrance to the mansion of Penhollow. I must get out and open the gate
that will admit us to the winding avenue."

We had arrived in front of some bars which were laid across an opening
in the snake fence that ran along one side of the road. I sat down
and looked about. It was a strange, lonely place. The trees almost met
overhead, and it was very dim and quiet. The sun could only send little
straggling beams through the branches. There was a muddy pool of water
before the bars that Mr. Harry was letting down, and he got his feet wet
in it. "Confound that Englishman," he said, backing out of the water,
and wiping his boots on the grass. "He hasn't even gumption enough to
throw down a load of stone there. Drive in, Laura, and I'll put up the
bars." Fleetfoot took us through the opening, and then Mr. Harry jumped
into the buggy and took up the reins again.

We had to go very slowly up a narrow, rough road. The bushes scratched
and scraped against the buggy, and Mr. Harry looked very much annoyed.

"No man liveth to himself," said Miss Laura, softly. "This man's
carelessness is giving you trouble. Why doesn't he cut these branches
that overhang the road?"

"He can't do it, because his abominable laziness won't let him," said
Mr. Harry. "I'd like to be behind him for a week, and I'd make him step
a little faster. We have arrived at last, thank goodness."

There was a small grass clearing in the midst of the woods. Chips
and bits of wood were littered about, and across the clearing was a
roughly-built house of unpainted boards. The front door was propped open
by a stick. Some of the panes of glass in the windows were broken, and
the whole house had a melancholy, dilapidated look. I thought that I had
never seen such a sad-looking place.

"It seems as if there was no one about," said Mr. Harry, with a puzzled
face. "Barron must be away. Will you hold Fleetfoot, Laura, while I go
and see?"

He drew the buggy up near a small log building that had evidently been
used for a stable, and I lay down beside it and watched Miss Laura.

CHAPTER XXVII A NEGLECTED STABLE

I HAD not been on the ground more than a few seconds, before I turned my
eyes from Miss Laura to the log hut. It was deathly quiet, there was not
a sound coming from it, but the air was full of queer smells, and I was
so uneasy that I could