The young game-warden went away from home with a very light heart beating under his patched jacket. By some fortunate combination of circumstances, which he did not pretend to understand, he had been relieved of a heavy responsibility. The two market-shooters of whom he stood the most in fear had been most effectually disposed of, for a while at least. It would be a long time, Joe told himself, before his father and Dan could muster up courage enough to come into the woods of which he had charge. If Silas was afraid to draw the wood which was to keep him warm during the winter, it was not at all probable that he would be reckless enough to hunt through Mr. Warren's covers.
When Joe reached his cabin, there was barely enough daylight left to aid him in his search for the lamp which he knew was stowed away somewhere among the things that were scattered over the floor. While he was groping about in the gloom, he wondered how much money it would take to induce Dan or his father to come up there and stay alone in that cabin all night. It would not have been at all strange, in view of the harrowing story to which he had listened a few hours before, if his own nerves had been a trifle "trembly;" but they were not. The sighing of the evening breeze through the thick branches of the evergreens that surrounded the cabin on three sides, and the mournful song of a distant whip-poor-will, were sounds that some people do not like to hear, because they make one feel lonely; but they were company for Joe, and he delighted in listening to them.
He found the lamp after a protracted search, filled it outside the door just as the last ray of daylight gave way to the increasing darkness, and when he touched a match to the wick and put on the chimney, his surroundings began to assume a more cheerful aspect.
It was the work of but a few moments to start a blaze in the fireplace, and while he was waiting for it to gather headway, so that he could pile on the hard wood which was to furnish the coals for the broiling of his bacon, he busied himself in setting things to rights.
He didn't bother with the carpet—that would have to wait until to-morrow; but he put up his cot, laid the mattress upon it, and was about to spread the bed-clothes over that, when he heard the snapping of twigs and heavy, lumbering footfalls outside the door, and looked up to see a white, scared face pressed close against one of the window-panes.
Joe was startled, and during the instant of time that he stood motionless by his cot, he felt the hot blood rushing to his heart, and knew that his own face must be as white as the one at the window.
His first emotion was one of fear, but it speedily gave place to anger and excitement. He wondered if the man who was hiding in the gorge labored under the delusion that he could drive him away with the same ease that he had driven off Dan and Silas.
"This thing might as well be settled now as a week from now," thought Joe. "I am here on legitimate business, and I'll ride rough-shod over anybody who attempts to interfere with me."
With one bound, Joe sprang clear across the cabin, and when he turned about he held his cocked rifle in his hands. He was ready to shoot, too.
But the man at the window had seen the movement, and lost no time in drawing his head out of sight.