THE CABIN ON THE MOUNTAIN Yes, it was a man digging in the ground. The quivering, yellowish glare from a torch that had been stuck in the ground by his side—as it flickered and flared, sometimes almost extinguished by the night air, and then suddenly blazing to a vivid flame—silhouetted his form in sharp outline against the high rock by which he was standing. As the girl’s eyes dilated in puzzled wonder as to who the man was, and why he was digging in the woods at this hour of the night, a queer, odd quiver, or twitching of his head at times, as he bent over the spade, aroused within her a vague consciousness that she had seen some one before who had that same peculiar motion. Tige, the little yellow dog crouching at their feet, at this moment gave a low growl, a warning that he might betray their presence. Nathalie, quickly pushing Jean from her lap, grabbed the dog, and snuggled him close to smother the growl, afraid that the man would discover that he had been seen. Assailed by a nameless fear, she seized Jean’s hand and pushed on up the incline, stepping cautiously, almost noiselessly, on the fallen leaves and stones, ever and anon glancing back, as if fearful that the man would pursue them. Recalled to herself at Jean’s wide, frightened eyes, and the tremor of his slight form, she whispered with assumed courage, “Oh, I guess the man is only burying some dead animal, or something of that kind up here in the woods.” Nevertheless she was almost as frightened as the child, and was devoutly thankful when they reached a little clearing nearer the top, where the moon shone down with the brightness of day. Yes, it would be about here that Sheila would come, for it was not far from the jutting rock where they had seen such beautiful views that morning. With keen eyes the girl peered around, but only craggy rocks, scrubby bushes, tree-stumps—weird black objects in the moonlight—here and there, backed by a forest of heavily-branched trees met her gaze. Oh! what was that tiny glimmer of light over by the tree yonder? Was it a light held by the man who had been digging, and who was perhaps watching them from behind the tree? Nathalie’s heart gave a wild leap, again shaken by that nameless fear, and then, to her intense relief, she saw that the light came from the little log cabin the children had found that morning in prowling about the clearing. Yes, some one must live there. But suppose it should be the man they had seen? Ah, they would hurry on, and gripping Jean’s hand in a closer pressure, she started forward. But no; Jean stood obstinately still, with low-bent head, as if listening.