The Galloping Ghost | Page 5

She did not finish.
The boy found it difficult, this discussing plans with one he could not
see, had never seen.
"I could soon cut a small hole between two logs,"
he told himself.
He thought of suggesting this, but considered it better to wait.
He set about planning their escape methodically.
The staple that held the padlock to his door was large.
It was clinched on the inside. By working first with a nail pulled out of
the wall, then a bit of wire, he managed to straighten these points. Then,
little by little, without sound, he pushed the staple back until only the
points showed.
"Two or three good yanks and the door will fly open," he confided to
the girl.
"But mine? How are we to manage it?"
Red pondered this problem. He could, he told himself, pass his crude
instruments through to her.
But were her fingers strong enough for the task? He doubted this.
He studied the wall that 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