with the horses," he said. "Fire 

 one shot for answer." I did so, as 

 he hastily collected some sticks for 

 the fire and placing them beside me, 

 ran off in the direction from which 

 the shot came. I could see his form, 

 black in the drab light, bobbing over 

 the uneven meadow and disappearing 

 into the woods. He was gone and 

 gone were all things comfortable and 

 understood. I was marooned in the 

 unknown. Can you feel the creepi- 

 ness of it ? 



Nimrod had cleared a six-foot space 

 in the tall marsh grass. I could not 

 see above it as I crouched beside the 

 fire that gave forth scarcely notice- 

 able light or smoke or heat either. 

 How chilly it grew, how dark, how 

 awfully silent! It was the silence of 

 the tomb and I was afraid, exquisitely 

 afraid, of nothing. 



But my imagination soon found 

 plenty of food. Sommers had been 

 thrown and injured. Nimrod would 

 never find him or he would break 

 a leg in the dark and perish miserably 

 from exposure. I would never see 

 him again or any one. Some day 

 strangers would find my bones and 



