And it was all hidden away in black woods which defied the keenest observation of the passer-by. And the hollow was approached by a circuitous road which entered the cutting at its northern end. Any other mode of ingress was impossible for any beast of burden.
As Hervey entered the valley and became lost to view in the sombre woods, he was greeted by the woeful cry of a screech-owl. So sudden and unexpected was the ear-piercing cry that both horse and rider started. The horse threw up its head and snorted, and stood for an instant trembling with apprehension. Hervey looked about him keenly. He could see nothing but the crowd of leafless tree-trunks, and a bed of dry pine-cones which covered the surrounding earth. The owl was probably hidden in the hollow of some dead tree, for there were many about. He pressed his horse forward. The animal moved cautiously, dancing along in its nervous apprehension.
Presently another cry split the air. Again some owl had protested at his intrusion.
So suddenly did the cry come that Hervey felt a slight superstitious quiver pass down his back, but he rode on. He had nearly a mile of the valley to travel before he came to the house, and, during the journey, seven times came the hideous screech of the owls. Now he began to understand why this place was called “Owl Hoot.”
It was with a feeling of relief that he at length saw the ranch through the trees, and he greeted 148 Iredale, who was standing in his doorway when he dismounted, with genuine pleasure.
“Well,” he said, after shaking his host by the hand, “another mile of this d–––d valley and I should have turned tail and fled back to the open. Why, you must have a regular colony of owls in the place. Man, I never heard such weird cries in my life. How is it that I haven’t heard them before when I came here?”
Iredale took his visitor’s horse. He was dressed in moleskin. Underneath his loose, dun-coloured vest he wore a soft shirt, and in place of a linen collar he had a red bandana tied about his neck. His headgear was a Stetson hat. In this garb he looked much more burly and powerful than in the tweeds he usually wore when visiting at the farm. His strong, patient face was lit by a quiet smile. He was a man whose eyes, and the expression of his features, never betrayed his thoughts. A keen observer would have noticed this at once, but to such people as he encountered he merely appeared a kindly man who was not much given to talking.
“Colony of owls, eh?” he said, leading the horse in the direction of the barn. “Those cries you have heard are what this cheerful place takes its name from. It only needs one cry to set the whole valley ringing with them. Had not the first creature seen you approach you might have reached your destination without hearing one disturbing sound. As a rule, in the daytime, they are not heard, but at night no one can enter these woods without the echoes being aroused. When they begin to shriek there is no sleep for any one in my house.”
“So I should say. Well, never mind them now, we have other matters on hand. What coverts are we going to shoot over first?”