“And he’s got three life-times to serve,” said the doctor sadly, then added, “I have seen two men in the forests who seemed to be doing the same thing—they are so old no one knows how many years they have lived.”
“That is why I said we must leave Mills. He would fight you like a demon, probably injure your men who tried to help him—”
“He picked up that chap who was with the dwarf and tossed him about as if he were a rubber ball,” Bob reminded them.
“The strength of a man who is insane,” said Ruhel. “We’ve had some dealings with them in Canada, powerful woodsmen, and it takes almost the whole force to overcome one.”
“Guess we’ve all had such experiences,” said Seaman. He smoked thoughtfully and stared at Donald.
“Now you know the story of the Bloody Dam. There are few of the natives who really know the tale, but every year someone brings out evidence that the Black Woods must be avoided; many legends have grown up about it, and neither the natives nor the negroes will go into it at this time of the year. You are in charge of this section of the country, Captain Seaman, my father and mother have made their home here, so I received permission to tell you the story that you might understand,” he finished impressively.
“Thanks no end. It will probably save us many difficulties,” the captain answered, and he gave no sign of doubting the strange tale. “I’ve been in these parts many years and I’ve seen queer things—”
“Jinks, isn’t there any end to the curse?” Bob demanded. “Surely those old fellows ought to be satisfied with four hundred years of punishment.”
“And their own people have to be a part of it,” Jim added.
“As long as the butterflies make their flight to the sea,” Donald replied. “The Black Woods and range are really a small area of land, probably about fifty miles square, and all white men will do well to keep out of it.”