THE OBSCURE TRAIL

Ned Whalen said nothing about the incident in the woods. But Tom did not fail to advertise his friend’s exploit. His generous enthusiasm seemed to amuse Whalen. Fairgreaves, too, was lavish in his colleague’s praise. All, including Ferris, acknowledged Whalen’s heroism. But Whalen himself seemed untouched by the episode.

It cannot be said, even, that he seemed more closely drawn toward Tom than before. He liked Tom and seemed to find entertainment in the young fellow’s freshness and enthusiasm. But he did not seek him out. Perhaps that was just because he was taciturn and solitary of habit.

At all events his duties presently intervened to put an end to their companionship. Tom became a real boss in the pleasant task of erecting a log cabin summer-house, while Whalen went to boss the job of planting poles for the electric wires down the south side of the mountain. As the work progressed farther and farther down the mountainside the men began taking their lunches with them, and since Tom dined in the cottage at night, he and Whalen met only occasionally.

Tom was disappointed and a little piqued that the incident in the woods had not aroused Whalen to something like a stronger sentiment of friendship. But he was sensible enough to realize that Whalen was much his senior, and also that he had acquired a certain habit of detachment from every one. He was reserved and solitary, with a kindly, wistful squint at things and people. Even Tom could not shake him out of his whimsical, lonesome habit.

Only one person understood him thoroughly and that was Audry Ferris. At least that was what she said. “I’m always suspicious of people that have two meanings to everything they say,” she observed to Miranda. “He may be physically strong (alluding to his exploit) and all that, but just the same I don’t trust him. He’s like the rest of them—ne’er-do-wells. If they really amounted to anything they wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised—”

“Lor’, Miss Audry,” Miranda said. “I alius say dat man he no human man—he no human man, I say dat. Das what I say, I say he no human man. He got ghost blood dat man—he shoo have. No human man can hold up no tree—dat man am no human man. I say so when I see ’im creepin’ along de ledge in de night. Why he go dere? Huh? Why he go dere? You go ’long dat ledge an’ you find a ghosts’ meetin’ place, das what I say. Why he go dere in de night? I tell Misser Ferris, I tell him right out, I say dat man am no human man.”

“I’m sure I don’t want to go along that ledge,” said Audry. “I’ve been along it as far as I care to go, thank you. Ugh, just to look down those crevices is enough for me. It makes me dizzy just to look down there. Why in one place you have to step across a canyon that’s miles deep. Ugh, it just makes me shudder.”

“Da’ shows ony ghosts can go dere,” Miranda said. “Dey can float—dey can float over cannons.”

“No, because along there are lots and lots of rocks with peoples’ initials carved on them,” Audry said. “They’re years and years old. It shows that people were up on this mountain as much as fifty years ago, that’s what Niel says. I’d like to see all those carvings along there but you couldn’t tempt me to go. I’m not afraid of spooks but I’m afraid of precipices.”

“Spooks is worser den prespices,” said Miranda darkly.