Ethel stood gazing in terrible fascination from the
big man to the thing on the ground at his feet. And as she looked, a
hideous old squaw, apparently too weak to stand, struggled from her
place of vantage among the feet of the men, and crawled to the limp,
sprawled form.

Leaning close she peered into the shapeless features, crooning and
gurgling, and emitting short, sharp whines of delight. Her beady eyes
glittered wickedly, like the eyes of a snake, and the withered lips
curled into a horrid grin, exposing the purple snag-toothed gums.

Suddenly the bent form knelt upright, the skeleton arms raised high
above the tangle of gray-black hair, the thin, high-pitched voice
quavered the words of a weird chant, the clawlike fingers twitched in
short, jerky spasms, and the emaciated body swayed and weaved to the
wild, barbaric rhythm of the chanted curse.

Terrible, blighting, the words were borne to the ears of the girl.
Bearded men looked, listened, and turned away, shuddering. The sun
burst suddenly through a rift in the flying clouds, and his golden
radiance fell incongruously upon the scene.

Ethel gazed as at some horrid phantasm--the rough men with gaudy shirts
of red and blue and multicolored checks, standing in groups with tense,
set faces--the other man--_her_ man--standing alone, silent and
smiling, by the side of his blood-bathed victim, and the old crone,
whose marcid form writhed in the swing of the thin-shrieked chant.

And then before she sensed that he had moved he stood before her. She
raised her eyes to his in which the hard, cold gleam had given place to
a look of intense longing, of infinite love, and the long-pent yearning
of a soul.

He stretched his arms toward her and she saw that the bruised and
swollen hands were stained with blood. Suddenly she realized that this
man was her _husband_. A sickening fear overcame her, and she shrank,
shuddering, from the touch of the blood-smeared hands.

A look of terror came into her face; she covered her eyes with her
hands as if to shut out the horror of it all, and, turning, fled
blindly--she knew not where.

As she ran there still sounded in her ears the words of the high, thin
chant--the blighting curse of Yaga Tah.

CHAPTER LII

THE BIG MAN

Darkness settled over the North country. The sky had cleared, the wind
gone down, and the air was soft and balmy with the feel of spring. A
million stars sparkled overhead and above the intense blac