Roy Starr hadn't taken an active part in the conversation for some time. He brought his fist down on the table with a bang. "To hell with the phantom," he stood up. "Ten minutes ago you were all tied up inside with a damned silly superstition. Now you're kidding yourselves that everything is okay. You're _still_ ready to believe in ghosts and goblins at a moment's notice. What's the matter? We all too scared to think clearly for ourselves?" Robinson got up. "Come on, Roy," he said. "Let's go out and get chains on the car. We'll need them to make that south hill." Roy Starr was trembling. Something had slipped inside him. Something that made him angry at all of them. Who did they think he was? Could they handle him like a ten year old kid? "You want to lead Junior outside and give him a lecture," he snapped. "Please don't scare these good people. Well, you can all go to hell. I'm going after a deer. If it turns out to be the phantom buck, I'll get _him_. I'm going alone and I don't need you or the car or anything else. I still got two good feet." They sat there and watched him go. Robinson sat down a little weakly. They heard Roy pick up his rifle in the kitchen and waited until his footsteps faded beyond the woodshed. "Well," Robinson said at last, "I guess Junior is on the warpath." * * * * * Glenn Starr looked at his watch. He halted in the protection of the evergreen grove and turned his back to the wind. Marjorie Wrenn caught up with him. "Better rest," Glenn said. "It's after noon." He found some sandwiches in his pocket and passed her one. The girl's face was very pale. "The tracks didn't come out of the swamp," she said. "Forget the tracks," Glenn said gently. "It's been snowing since ten o'clock. They were Roy's tracks all right. The snow drifted in and covered them up. He probably headed for home hours ago." "I--can't eat, Glenn. Let's go back. Let's try to find the tracks again. I'm scared, Glenn. I'm so scared my teeth are chattering." Glenn took her rifle. "Follow me," he said abruptly. "You're all done in. I'll take the shortest route." The girl took half a dozen faltering steps and sank down into the snow. When he reached her side, she was out cold. He rubbed her wrists and cheeks until her eyes, full of tears, opened slowly. "You're gonna be all right," he said, and picked her up in his arms. Slowly, for he knew it was going to be a rough trail, he headed across the valley toward home. Earl Robinson moved more slowly now. He and Larson had swung down from the north and crossed the three sets of tracks. Larson, puffing from his first day of marching, came behind him. Robinson stopped finally. He waited for Larson to catch up. He pointed at the almost covered tracks. "Here's where they missed his trail," he said. "I think we can still follow it if we take our time." "Look," Larson said abruptly, "you don't believe that phantom buck business, do you?"