SHE WAS DISTURBED BY THE PRESENCE OF THAT GRIM THING WHICH THEY ESCORTED.
Jack halted the dogs before the very unpretentious structure that was inappropriately designated the Grand Hotel. At sound of the arrival, those within hurried forth, eager for any interruption of the day's monotony. Among the others came a tall, lank man, with a lantern-jawed face and a drooping, melancholy mustache, whom Jack recognized as Hal Owens, the sheriff. He himself, however, was not known to Owens, or to any of those present, nor was Nell, as they were speedily to learn to their sorrow. Another face in the group was vaguely familiar to both the young husband and his bride. Jack, for the moment, could not recall where he had seen this stalwart, handsome man, who stood with a masterful erectness, emphasized by his frank and fearless gaze. But Nell, in the instant of seeing the stranger, recollected him perfectly, though she had seen him but once in a fleeting glance. She remembered how he had appeared on her wedding-day, and how he had regarded her with that cynical smile, which had aroused in her an inexplicable sense of dismay, a fear of mysterious disasters, past or to come. It seemed to her appropriate enough that now this man should be present to welcome her and her husband as they brought in their ghastly load. Again, she experienced a curious repugnance in meeting the steady stare that seemed to probe into her soul with a mocking amusement. Nell wrenched her eyes from his, and turned away with a little shudder of revulsion. Then, the natural buoyancy of her spirits asserted itself. After all, this man, who affected her so strangely, was nothing to them—could be nothing to them. And they were at last free of the horrible incubus that had been thrust upon them. The dead body was now gone out of their charge, was become the property of the law. She smiled, a little wanly, while her eyes moved over the roughly garbed cluster of men. She was glad—oh, so glad!—that miserable interruption of their honeymoon was done and over.
Jack addressed the sheriff briskly, himself almost as anxious as Nell to have done with this wretched matter.
"This is your business, Sheriff. I've brought in the body of a chap who got killed out Forgotten Creek way, yesterday afternoon."
The sheriff nodded with what he took to be the dignity befitting his authority.
"The coroner should set on the corpse," he said gravely, pleased at this display of his familiarity with legal phrases. "In his absence—bein' there hain't none—I reckon I'll do the best I kin."
He strode to the sled, and pulled aside the blanket that had concealed the dead man's face. He turned to the men who had crowded around.
"Anybody know him?" he demanded, authoritatively.
There was a chorus of grunts in negation.