This was a low, carefully-made mound that, in shape and significance, could be confounded with no other sort of mound, wherever met. Both recognized it at once, and even upon Adrian the shock was painful; but its effect upon superstitious Pierre was far greater. With a shriek that startled the silence of the forest he flung himself headlong. CHAPTER XVII DIVERGING ROADS “Get up, Pierre. You should be ashamed of yourself!” It needed a strong and firm grasp to force the terrified lad to his feet, and even when he, at last, stood up he shivered like an aspen. “A grave!” “Certainly, a grave. But neither yours nor mine. Only that of some poor fellow who has died in the wilderness. I’m sorry I piled the brush upon it, yet glad we discovered it in the end.” “Gla-a-ad!” gasped the other. “Yes, of course. I mean to cover it with fresh sods and plant some of those purple orchids at its head. I’ll cut a cedar headstone, too, and mark it so that nobody else shall desecrate it as we have done.” “You mustn’t touch it. It’s nobody’s--only a warning.” “A warning, surely, that we must take great care lest a like fate come on us; but somebody lies under that mound and I pity him. Most probable that he lost his life in that very whirlpool which wrecked us. Twice I’ve been upset and lost all my belongings, but escaped safe. I hope I’ll not run the same chance again. Come--lie down again and go to sleep.” “Couldn’t sleep; to try in such a haunted place would be to be ‘spelled’--” “Pierre Ricord! For a fellow that’s so smart at some things, you are the biggest dunce I know, in others. Haven’t we slept like lords ever since we struck this camp? I’m going to make my bed up again and turn in. I advise you to do the same.” Adrian tossed the branches aside, then rearranged them, lapping the soft ends over the hard ones in an orderly row which would have pleased a housewife. Thus freshened, his odorous mattress was as good as new, and stretching himself upon it he immediately went to sleep. Pierre fully intended to keep awake, but fatigue and loneliness prevailed, and five minutes later he had crept close to Adrian’s side. The sunshine on his face and the sound of a knife cutting wood awoke him; and there was Adrian whittling away at a broad slab of cedar, smiling and jeering, and in the best of spirits, despite his rather solemn occupation. “For a fellow who wouldn’t sleep, you’ve done pretty well. See--I’ve caught a fish and set it cooking. I’ve picked a pile of berries, and have nearly finished this headstone. Added another accomplishment to my many--monument-maker. But I’m wrong to laugh over that, though the poor unknown to whom it belongs would be grateful to me, I’ve no doubt. Lend a hand, will you?”