e place, and
were once more buried from view within the depths of the woods.

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."

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 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.

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.

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