"No one knows just who and what are movin' about these woods," said Christopher, in solemn tones. "In forty years I've known things to happen here that no one ever explained. Hold on, Mr. Wade!" he cried, checking a bitter outburst. "I'm not talking like Tommy Eye, either! I'm not talking about ha'nts now. But, I say, strange things have happened in these woods--and a strange thing has happened this time. Barrett's daughter is gone. She's been taken. She didn't go by herself." He gazed helplessly about him, searching the avenues of the silent woods. "North or east, west or south!" he muttered, "It's a big job for us, Mr. Wade! I'm goin' to be honest with you. I don't see into it. You'd better eat." The young man pushed the proffered food away. "You eat, I say," commanded old Christopher, his gray eyes snapping. "An empty gun and an empty man ain't either of 'em any good on a huntin'-trip." He started away, dragging the sled, and Wade struggled along after him, choking down the food. When they had retraced their steps as far as the Enchanted tote road, Christopher turned to the south and trudged towards Pogey Notch. The trail of the tote team was visible in hollows which the snow had nearly filled. The snow lay as it had fallen. The tops of the great trees on either side of the road sighed and lashed and moaned in the wind that had risen at dawn. But below in the forest aisles it was quiet. Had not the wind been at their backs, whistling from the north, the passage of Pogey Notch would have proved a savage encounter. The stunted growth offered no wind-break. The great defile roared like a chimney-draught. As the summer winds had howled up the Notch, lashing the leafy branches of the birches and beeches, so now the winter winds howled down, harpers that struck dismal notes from the bare trees. The snow drove horizontally in stinging clouds. The drifting snow even made the sun look wan. The quest for track, trail, or clew in that storm aftermath was waste of time. But the old man kept steadily on, peering to right and left, searching with his eyes nook and cross-defile, until at the southern mouth of the Notch they came to Durfy's hovel. Christopher took refuge there, leaning against the log walls, and mused for a time without speaking. Then he bent his shrewd glance on Wade from under puckered lids. "There's no telling what a lunatic will do next, is there?" he blurted, abruptly. Wade, failing to understand, stared at his questioner. "I was thinkin' about that as we came past that place where 'Ladder' Lane trussed up John Barrett and left him, time of the big fire," the old man went on. "Comin' down the Notch sort of brought the thing up in my mind. It's quite a grudge that Lane has got against John Barrett and all that belongs to him." Wade was well enough versed in Christopher Straight's subtle fashion of expressing his suspicions to understand him now. "By ----, Straight, I believe you've hit it!" he panted.