When the coroner had finished reading he put the book into his breast pocket. At that moment the door was pushed open and a young man entered. He, clearly, was not of mountain birth and breeding: he was clad as those who dwell in cities. His clothing was dusty, however, as from travel. He had, in fact, been riding hard to attend the inquest. The coroner nodded; no one else greeted him. "We have waited for you," said the coroner. "It is necessary to have done with this business to-night." The young man smiled. "I am sorry to have kept you," he said. "I went away, not to evade your summons, but to post to my newspaper an account of what I suppose I am called back to relate." The coroner smiled. "The account that you posted to your newspaper," he said, "differs probably from that which you will give here under oath." "That," replied the other, rather hotly and with a visible flush, "is as you choose. I used manifold paper and have a copy of what I sent. It was not written as news, for it is incredible, but as fiction. It may go as a part of my testimony under oath." "But you say it is incredible." "That is nothing to you, sir, if I also swear that it is true." The coroner was apparently not greatly affected by the young man's manifest resentment. He was silent for some moments, his eyes upon the floor. The men about the sides of the cabin talked in whispers, but seldom withdrew their gaze from the face of the corpse. Presently the coroner lifted his eyes and said: "We will resume the inquest." The men removed their hats. The witness was sworn. "What is your name?" the coroner asked. "William Harker." "Age?" "Twenty-seven." "You knew the deceased, Hugh Morgan?" "Yes." "You were with him when he died?" "Near him." "How did that happen--your presence, I mean?" "I was visiting him at this place to shoot and fish. A part of my purpose, however, was to study him, and his odd, solitary way of life. He seemed a good model for a character in fiction. I sometimes write stories." "I sometimes read them." "Thank you." "Stories in general--not yours." Some of the jurors laughed. Against a sombre background humor shows high lights. Soldiers in the intervals of battle laugh easily, and a jest in the death chamber conquers by surprise. "Relate the circumstances of this man's death," said the coroner. "You may use any notes or memoranda that you please." The witness understood. Pulling a manuscript from his breast pocket he held it near the candle, and turning the leaves until he found the passage that he wanted, began to read. II