Cowmen and Rustlers | Page 3

children were starting off for an evening's
enjoyment. The minute they were beyond sight she sighed, and, turning
about, resumed her seat by the table in the centre of the sitting-room,
where, as the lamplight fell upon her pale face, she strove to drive away
the disquieting thoughts that would not leave her.
It was a pleasing sight as the three young people, the picture of life,
health and joyous spirits, side by side, laughing, jesting, and with never
a thought of danger, moved out to the middle of the river and then sped
toward its source, with the easy, beautiful movement which in the
accomplished skater is the ideal of grace. The motion seemingly was

attended with no effort, and could be maintained for hours with little
fatigue.
The small river, to which allusion has been made, was one hundred
yards in width at the point where they passed out upon its surface. This
width naturally decreased as they ascended, but the decrease was so
gradual that at Wolf Glen, fifteen miles away, the breadth was fully
three-fourths of the width opposite the Whitney home. Occasionally,
too, the channel widened to double or triple its usual extent, but those
places were few in number, and did not continue long. They marked a
shallowing of the current and suggested in appearance a lake.
There were other spots where this tributary itself received others.
Sometimes the open space would show on the right, and further on
another on the left indicated where a creek debouched into the stream,
in its search for the ocean, the great depository of most of the rivers of
the globe.
The trees, denuded of vegetation, projected their bare limbs into the
crystalline air, and here and there, where they leaned over the banks,
were thrown in relief against the moonlit sky beyond. The moon itself
was nearly in the zenith, and the reflected gleam from the glassy
surface made the light almost like that of day. Along the shore,
however, the shadows were so gloomy and threatening that Monteith
Sterry more than once gave a slight shudder and reached his mittened
hand down to his side to make sure his weapon was in place.
The course was sinuous from the beginning, winding in and out so
continuously that the length of the stream must have been double that
of the straight line extending over the same course. Some of these
turnings were abrupt, and there were long, sweeping curves with a view
extending several hundred yards.
They were spinning around one of these, when Sterry uttered an
exclamation:
"I'm disappointed!"

"Why?" inquired Jennie, at his elbow.
"I had just wrought myself up to the fancy that we were pioneers, the
first people of our race to enter this primeval wilderness, when lo!"
He extended his arm up-stream and to the right, where a star-like
twinkle showed that a dwelling stood, or some parties had kindled a
camp-fire.
"Quance, an old fisherman and hunter, lives, there," explained Fred, "as
I believe he has done for fifty years."
"Would you like to make a call on him?" asked Jennie.
"I have no desire to do so; I enjoy this sport better than to sit by the fire
and listen to the most entertaining hunter. Isn't that he?"
The cabin was several rods from the shore, the space in front being
clear of trees and affording an unobstructed view of the little log
structure, with its single door and window in front, and the stone
chimney from which the smoke was ascending. Half-way between the
cabin and the stream, and in the path connecting the two, stood a man
with folded arms looking at them. He was so motionless that he
suggested a stump, but the bright moonlight left no doubt of his
identity.
"Holloa, Quance!" shouted Fred, slightly slackening his speed and
curving in toward shore.
The old man made no reply. Then Jennie's musical voice rang out on
the frosty air, but still the hunter gave no sign that he knew he had been
addressed. He did not move an arm nor stir.
"I wonder whether he hasn't frozen stiff in that position," remarked
Sterry. "He may have been caught in the first snap several weeks ago
and has been acting ever since as his own monument."
At the moment of shooting out of sight around the curve the three

glanced back. The old fellow was there, just as they saw him at first.
They even fancied he had not so much as turned his head while they
were passing, but was still gazing at the bank opposite him, or, what
was more likely, peering sideways without shifting his head to any
extent.
The occurrence, however, was too slight to cause a second thought.
They were now fairly under way,