The All-Story, March 1914 — page 176: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Titik. DEVI, AND DR. FOSTER. yone Iowont show you.” the boy cluded. ‘* \Wes threatened to raw- de mie onee, and I'm afraid of him.” “Don’t you be scared, young feller: wont bring any one,”’ Sam promised. At twelve o'clock, over in the sheep psture. \nd if any one ever tries to ck on you just you let me know. Tl that you ain't abused.” CHAPTER VIL. THE GOLDEN TRAIL. As long as he lives Sain Tupper will Femeniber the night of his assignation with Ike Jackson. Its least incident, down to the whisper of the wind through the tree-tops, is indelibly graven on the tablets of his mind. He was fortunate at the inception of the alventure. His fears that leaving the house at the unearthly hour set by the uncanny orphan would involve te- dious explanations to Huldah proved anfomded; for she went to bed un- usualy carly—leaving Sam sitting up pver he Winston Review, that day off the press—anid, being tired from a day bf haise-cleaning, promptly fell asleep. » Asnine o'clock, his customary hour for etiring, arrived it found Sam yawrng. <A half-hour later he was un- able o keep his eyes open any longer, and arled up on the sitting-room couch for ;: little nap. He awoke an hour and i half afterward with a guilty startwas relieved at learning from the kitchn clock that he could still be in time.and, boots in hand, silently let himslf out into the yard. | * The moon, now beginning to wane, swung high above Haystack Mountain, and touched familiar objects with a ghostly light. Sam was glad of its presence, nevertheless, since it made it unnecessary for him to use the lantern he had with forethought set on the sill of the barn door. He could find hus way to the rendezvous without its aid. “he sheep pasture at this hour looked so strange that he found himself won- denng whether it were really his own. 649 Along its foot. where Roaring Brook ran, hung a white mist, like a newly nade lake, altering the aspect of every- thing. As he picked his way across the hummocks with which the pasture was dotted, the mournful, long-drawn howl of a dog not very far away struck on his ear. “T thought Shep was shut up in the barn.” he said to himself. ‘“ Still, he might be howling there, same as any place else.” He had never heard Shep howl in this fashion, but it was the only ex- planation which satished him. What he could not understand was that the nearer he drew to the point for which he was making the more distinct the howling became. “ Probably it’s Lije Wendrick’s hound.” he said, “out on a fox-trail. I never did see much use in them long- eared dogs. I wonder if old Mrs. Cop- pins has died.” The howl of a dog is a sign of death 12 Oxville, as everywhere else in the civilized world. And it was quite like- ly that Mrs. Coppins, whose display of vitality had surprised every one, had passed away during the night. The howling ceased when Sam was about half-way across the big pasture, but something else happened which gave him a tremendous start. <A soft. wet, cold object was thrust into the hand which swung at his side. At the moment this occurred he was in open land, without a tree or a shrub within a hundred yards. His scalp crawled, his hair stiffened without his understanding why, and it was some seconds ere he dared look around. <All the while this soft, cold, moist thing, obviously alive, was poking at his hand. Then, turning, he burst into a nerv- ous laugh. “Sam Tupper, you're getting worse’n an old woman scared of the dark,” he told himself. For the object which had caused him alarm was nothing more serious than the muzzle of Bucyrus. hig ram. that...