ll the same, I'm willing to bet that the place's deserted."

"Maybe it is and maybe it isn't," suggested Bradby. "However, you go off
as you say and I'll wait here for you."

Abel Cumshaw threw the reins to his companion, slid his revolver
holsters round to the front within easy reach, should he need the
weapons they contained, and slipped through the trees with the silence
of a marauding tom-cat. Bradby watched him with some misgiving. No man
could say with certainty just what secret the dilapidated hut held, and
Bradby's state of mind was such that he took the gloomier view of the
situation. He would not have been very much surprised to see half a
dozen troopers issue from the hut. He would have taken it as the
inevitable ending of such an adventure. He failed to understand the
natural cheerfulness with which Cumshaw faced the situation. He was
bright and volatile enough himself when dealing with the ordinary
man--his courage was of that average quality that is always at its best
when exercised before an admiring or frightened audience--but the
abnormal brought home to him his own futility of purpose and his natural
helplessness. While realising all this he was not man enough to rise
above and overcome the limitations of his spirit.

Cumshaw swung round the corner of the hut and out of sight. Then it was
that Bradby began to feel absolutely deserted, and the queer
oppressiveness of the place descended on him as one shuts down the lid
of a box. He was not the type of man who finds companionship in animals,
and the nearness of the horses in nowise mitigated his fear. For he was
afraid, unashamedly afraid, though of what he could no more have said
than he could fly. He knew without understanding how the knowledge came
to him that the valley was filled with the ghosts of dead things, dead
trees, dead leaves, and perhaps dead hopes. His nerve was going; the
intolerably close atmosphere of the wood brought little beads of
perspiration out on him, and when he brushed his forehead with a
trembling hand he was surprised to find it wet.

The horses stirred uneasily, and the lame animal gave a low whinny.

Then in the next instant the eternal silence of the valley was broken by
a human voice. The suddenness of it startled Bradby, and it wasn't until
he saw Cumshaw waving to him that he realised that the sound he had
heard was his companion's "Coo-ee." He loosed his hold on the reins,
allowing the two horses to wander where t