"What is it?" shouted Lawrence.
"Dead man up here. No signs of any live one."
"Well, look around sharp, and then come down," replied Lawrence.
The men soon returned, and told a strange story.
"We found," said the sergeant in charge, "whom do you think? Our friend who sold us the corn and hogs. He was lying behind a rock; his gun, loaded and cocked, was on the rock, and no doubt he was just going to take another shot at us, when some one shot him through the head from behind. He had just been shot, for the fresh blood was gushing from the wound as we came up. But we neither saw nor could we find any trace of the one who shot him. It's blame curious. I feel creepy. These mountains must be haunted."
"If they are, the spirits who haunt them must be very friendly to us," said Lawrence; "but, as you say, it is a singular circumstance. I can't make it out. Why doesn't the fellow show himself, if he is our friend?"
Many and various were the opinions expressed, but no satisfactory solution was arrived at.
The day closed dark and gloomy; great clouds swept across the sky, and the wind roared through the forest. It became so dark, and traveling so difficult, that Lawrence decided to camp for the night, and risk the chance of being overtaken. The place chosen to camp was a natural amphitheater which ran back into the mountains. It was overhung by the giant trees growing on the mountain.
Supper over, the men sat for some time around their little campfire, talking over the events of the day; but gradually the camp became quiet, and nothing was heard but the stamping of the horses and the roaring of the wind.
It was nearly midnight when the soldiers were aroused, not by the guard, but by Bruno, who came bounding into camp, growling fiercely, every hair on his back erect. He was trembling violently, either from fear or excitement.