The Galloping Ghost | Page 5

lay between them. He was at a loss to account for this wall, which had, from all appearances, stood there for some years. Then it occurred to him that a trapper had built the cabin, using one room for himself, the other for his dogs. Campers of a later date had doubtless cleared up the dogs' kennel and made a bunk room of it without removing the partition.
"But this partition," he whispered excitedly, "is not notched into the cabin wall. The logs were merely laid up, one upon another, then a white birch pole spiked in each corner to hold them into position. Once the poles are removed, the logs may be taken down."
"And then?" the girl breathed.
"Your room will be mine and mine yours."
"Until they discover."
"They will not discover. We will not remove the logs until the hour set for our escape. When they discover the cage door open, the birds will have flown."
It was with strangely mixed feelings that Red began the task of removing the white birch poles which held the logs in place. Until that moment the girl had seemed quite remote, one living in another world, a rich man's daughter. But as the last spike yielded and the last pole stood leaning lightly in its place, as he realized that the logs that lay between them could be removed as easily as stones are piled or grain shocked, he became conscious of a new sort of comradeship such as he had experienced with none other.
"We are in for it," he breathed, "for better or for worse."
"For better or for worse," came the girl's faint answer. "And, oh, I'm sure it is for better than we dare dream."
"Only one thing could be truly good: to get back to Soldiers' Field on time." Red thought this, but he did not say it.
With the preparations all made there remained but to wait. To one of Red's nature, this was hardest of all.
He was ever for action.
"But we must wait," he said to the log wall before him, in tones loud enough for the girl's ears. "The guard will be on the alert early in the night. Later he will relax his vigil."
"Yes, yes. We must wait!" came from the other side of the wall.
"I'm putting out my light, retiring for the night."
These words, ending in a subdued laugh, came from behind the wall half an hour later, telling Red that for the eyes of the guard she had retired for the night.
"Retired for the night," Red thought soberly "Wonder when we will retire, and where?"
As he thought of the cold black waters of this inland bay, a mental picture of his own form, lying ten fathoms deep where the fishes play, came to him. He saw his hands waved about by the currents. Then with a shudder he shook himself free from the illusion.
Fifteen minutes later he too "retired for the night."
After that, with the cabin shrouded in darkness, he sat and listened to the sounds of the night.
Curious sounds they were to one who knew nothing of wild life; the shrill, long-drawn whistle of some bird calling to his mate; the throaty call of a bull moose from down the bay, and that piercing scream of the loon, never failing to set his blood running cold.
He thought he caught the sound of footsteps. The guard! What if he appeared and discovered all that had been done? He listened long for a rattle at the lock, but none came.
At last, standing erect, he stretched himself like a cat, then said in a hoarse whisper:
"I'm taking down the wall."
In absolute silence he lifted the birch poles from their places. He put a hand to the topmost log. It did not yield to his pull.
"Spiked on the other side."
He tried the second one.
"Ah!"
It came away. Without a sound he placed it at his feet. A second, a third, fourth, fifth. Still no sound.
An opening three feet wide now lay before him. He put out a hand. It touched some one. groping about, he found the girl's hand, then guided her through the opening.
"It is strange," he thought. "I have never seen this person. Is she dark or fair, beautiful or ugly?"
One or two things he could know. She was short and rather plump. Her muscles were hard. He was surprised at this. He had supposed that rich men's daughters were always, soft and white.
He drew the girl to a place on the bench beside him.
She was trembling. As her shoulder pressed against his, he felt the wild beating of her heart. This would never do. She must be calm.
As for his own feelings, he had gone cold all over, just, as he had at the beginning of every gridiron battle.
"Warm enough when time comes for action," he told himself. It