Why shouldn't he sleep in the pantry, lock the door, and, in case of intrusion, — other exits being unavailable, — why shouldn't he feel entirely safe with such an avenue of escape open?
For swimming was Sard's single accomplishment. He wasn't afraid of the water; he simply couldn't sink. Swimming was the only sport he ever had indulged in. He adored it.
Also, the mere idea of sleeping alone amid that hell of trees terrified Sard. Never had he known such horror as when Quintana abandoned him in the woods. Never again would he gaze upon a tree without malignant hatred. Never again did he desire to lay eyes upon even a bush. The very sight, now, of the dusky forest filled him with loathing. Why should he not risk one night in this deserted house, — sleep well and warmly, feed well, drink his bellyfull of Clinch's beer, before attempting the dead-line southward, where he was only too sure that patrols were riding and hiding on the lookout for the fancy gentlemen of Jose Quintana's selected company of malefactors?
Well, here in the snug pantry were pies, crullers, bread, cheese, various dried meats, tinned vegetables, ham, bacon, fuel and range to prepare what he desired.
Here was beer, too; and doubtless ardent spirits if he could nose out the hidden demijohns and bottles.
He peered out of the pantry window at the forest, shuddered, cursed it and every separate tree in it; cursed Quintana, too, wishing him black mischance. No; it was settled. He'd take his chance here in the pantry. … And there must be a mattress somewhere upstairs.
He climbed the staircase, cautiously, discovered Clinch's bedroom, took the mattress and blankets from the bed, and dragged them to the pantry.
Could any honest man be more tight and snug in this perilous world of the desperate and undeserving? Sard thought not. But one matter still troubled him; the lock of the pantry door had been shattered. To remedy this he moused around until he discovered some long nails and a claw-hammer. When he was ready to go to sleep he'd nail himself in. Sard chuckled again for the first time since he had set eyes upon the accursed region.
And now the sun came out from behind a low bank of solid grey cloud, and fell upon the countenance of Emanuel Sard. It warmed his parrot-nose agreeably; it cheered and enlivened him.
Not for him a night of terrors in that horrible forest which he could see through the pantry window.