The speaker caught his breath to listen, for the forest seemed suddenly alive with sound and motion. A cloud swept down the valley of the North Fork, so low that shreds of scud were caught in the topmost branches. Hail pattered on the wire grass. The tent curtains flapped noisily, and in the shadow the aspen leaves flashed white as though a mailed army sprang from ambush. "Go on!" the professor urged, and the cook held up a brawny fist and shook it at the universe defiantly. "I'll tell it now," he cried, "and all the winds that ever blew sha'n't shout me down! Here's how it was." He faltered, and the professor prompted him. "There's where you lay," he said, making a gesture to indicate the ranks of trembling men. "There's where we lay," Budd echoed dully. "And there was the door," said the professor softly. He pointed to a tree at the cañon's brink. "Yes, yes!" cried Budd, "there was the door. The platform was outside, and there were two on guard. I was to spring out first--so," he jumped up--"and tackle the one farthest off. The Dutchman was to grab the other from behind. Mine was a stout young feller." "A stout young fellow," repeated the professor. "Yes," and the cook stood motionless as though some vision rose before him. "I can see him now, with straight back and crisp curly brown hair." "A little curly," murmured the other. "Percy, they called him," said Budd. "Percy?" echoed the professor. "You are sure it was Percy?" "Sure as you're sitting there!" cried Budd. "'Keep your eyes open, Percy, they're a bad lot.' That's what the corporal told him when he went on guard. Lord! but it was a pity!" He chuckled inanely, swaying on his feet. "What then?" inquired the man from Charbridge, rising slowly. Budd cowered before his questioner's eyes as he might have cowered when those long silent guns were booming had the tall young fellow turned. "Nothing!" he muttered sullenly. "Nothing, so help me God! I didn't do it." "You lie!" retorted the small man quietly. Budd laughed a foolish laugh. "There's where we lay," he babbled, "just where your foot is, me and the Dutchman and the balance of us, and here was the door----" He lurched toward the aspen tree and laid a hand upon its trunk to keep from falling. The professor followed and stood close behind. "What do you want?" cried Budd, wheeling in sudden panic. "To learn the manner of my brother's death," the other answered between lips that scarcely moved. The voice of the pines was like the rumble of a railway train; the winds boomed down from timber line like thunders of artillery; the hailstones struck the aspens' leaves like bullets, and over all the laugh of Budd rang in maniacal mirth. The professor held his eye steadily; then abruptly: "Turn out the guard!" he shouted. "Choke him, you big Dutch fool!" Budd called back in response, as with his bare arms he grappled with an invisible adversary.