“It shore is,” shouted Wilson, shaking his hand at Anson. “An' you'll hev to take your medicine. I felt thet comin' all along. An' I feel some more.” “Aw! She's jest gone to sleep,” declared Anson, shaking his long frame as he rose. “Gimme a light.” “Boss, you're plumb off to go near a dead gurl thet's jest died crazy,” protested Shady Jones. “Off! Haw! Haw! Who ain't off in this outfit, I'd like to know?” Anson possessed himself of a stick blazing at one and, and with this he stalked off toward the lean-to where the girl was supposed to be dead. His gaunt figure, lighted by the torch, certainly fitted the weird, black surroundings. And it was seen that once near the girl's shelter he proceeded more slowly, until he halted. He bent to peer inside. “SHE'S GONE!” he yelled, in harsh, shaken accents. Than the torch burned out, leaving only a red glow. He whirled it about, but the blaze did not rekindle. His comrades, peering intently, lost sight of his tall form and the end of the red-ended stick. Darkness like pitch swallowed him. For a moment no sound intervened. Again the moan of wind, the strange little mocking hollow roar, dominated the place. Then there came a rush of something, perhaps of air, like the soft swishing of spruce branches swinging aside. Dull, thudding footsteps followed it. Anson came running back to the fire. His aspect was wild, his face pale, his eyes were fierce and starting from their sockets. He had drawn his gun. “Did--ye--see er hear--anythin'?” he panted, peering back, then all around, and at last at his man. “No. An' I shore was lookin' an' listenin',” replied Wilson. “Boss, there wasn't nothin',” declared Moze. “I ain't so sartin,” said Shady Jones, with doubtful, staring eyes. “I believe I heerd a rustlin'.” “She wasn't there!” ejaculated Anson, in wondering awe. “She's gone!... My torch went out. I couldn't see. An' jest then I felt somethin' was passin'. Fast! I jerked 'round. All was black, an' yet if I didn't see a big gray streak I'm crazier 'n thet gurl. But I couldn't swear to anythin' but a rushin' of wind. I felt thet.” “Gone!” exclaimed Wilson, in great alarm. “Fellars, if thet's so, then mebbe she wasn't daid an' she wandered off. ... But she was daid! Her heart hed quit beatin'. I'll swear to thet.” “I move to break camp,” said Shady Jones, gruffly, and he stood up. Moze seconded that move by an expressive flash of his black visage. “Jim, if she's dead--an' gone--what 'n hell's come off?” huskily asked Anson. “It, only seems thet way. We're all worked up.... Let's talk sense.” “Anson, shore there's a heap you an' me don't know,” replied Wilson. “The world come to an end once. Wal, it can come to another end.... I tell you I ain't surprised--” “THAR!” cried Anson, whirling, with his gun leaping out. Something huge, shadowy, gray against the black rushed behind the men and trees; and following it came a perceptible acceleration of the air.