The girl looked at the narrow crossing and at the darkening woods beyond. It was that period of stillness and deepening gloom which precedes a mountain storm. Still early in the day, one might easily believe that night was descending. Constance shuddered. She was a bit nervous and unstrung. "There is something weird about it," she said. "It is like entering the enchanted forest. Oh, I can cross well enough--it isn't that," and stepping lightly on the little footway she walked as steadily and firmly as did Frank, a moment later. "You're a brick, Conny," he said heartily. An opening in the bushes at the end of the little bridge revealed itself. They entered and pushed along, for the way led downward. The darkness grew momentarily. Rain was beginning to fall. Yet they hurried on, single file, Frank leading and parting the vines and limbs to make the way easier for his companion. They came presently to a little open space, where suddenly he halted. "There's a light," he said, "it must be a camp." But Constance clung to his arm. It was now quite dark where they stood, and there came a low roll of thunder overhead. "Oh, suppose it is something dreadful!" she whispered--"a robbers' den, or moonshiners. I've heard of such things." "It's more likely to be a witch," said Frank, "or an ogre, but I think we must risk it." The rain came faster and they hurried forward now and presently stood at the door of a habitation, though even in the mist and gloom it impressed them as being of a curious sort. There was a window and a light, certainly, but the window held no sash, and the single opening was covered with a sort of skin, or parchment. There was a door, too, and walls, but beyond this the structure seemed as a part of the forest itself, with growing trees forming the door and corner posts, while others rose apparently from the roof. Further outlines of this unusual structure were lost in the dimness. Under the low, sheltering eaves they hesitated. "Shall we knock?" whispered Constance. "It is all so queer--so uncanny. I feel as if it might be the home of a real witch or magician, or something like that." "Then we may at least learn our fate," Frank answered, and with his knuckles struck three raps on the heavy door. At first there was silence, then a sound of movement within, followed by a shuffling step. A moment later the heavy door swung ajar, and in the dim light from within Frank and Constance beheld a tall bowed figure standing in the opening. In a single brief glance they saw that it was a man--also that his appearance, like that of his house, was unusual. He was dressed entirely in skins. His beard was upon his breast, and his straggling hair fell about his shoulders. He stood wordless, silently regarding the strangers, and Frank at first was at a loss for utterance. Then he said, hesitatingly: "We missed our way on the mountain. We want shelter from the storm and directions to the trail that leads to Spruce Lodge."