Johnson was unnerved. It was not often that men die by the knife in the North country. Then a great load seemed to leave his shoulders, for this dead man had sworn, not three weeks before, to shoot him at sight—and Johnson was known to be a coward. No more need he sleep with an eye open, or slip into towns at night. MacNamara, thank God, was dead.
The dead man’s pack was in the other bunk, and scattered around the room were hairpins, a small rhinestone ring, and a few other feminine trinkets. “Woman!” said Johnson—and then he saw the note. It was scrawled on the cover torn from an old magazine. It read:
“Ed, you’ll find this sure. Mac was going to lay for you and pot you at the White Rocks. I couldn’t find you, so I promised to come here to Carmels with him. When he climbed in the bunk I give it to him—the damned fool!”
It was unsigned.
The sun was very near the western hilltop. Johnson went to the woods and returned with his pack; he dropped it near the stove in the cookroom. Then he burned the note. Next he took a small bag of parched corn out of his pack and concealed in it the woman’s little things, and put the bag in his shirt. There remained only one thing to do. Without looking at the dead man’s face he drew the knife out of his breast and forced his own into the wound. The woman’s knife he took to the door and hurled far out into the woods.
There wasn’t much daylight left. He closed the door quietly and started for the trail, north.
“I’ll have to hurry,” said Johnson.
THE HEART OF A BURGLAR
By Jane Dahl
Noiselessly the burglar drew his great bulk through the window, deposited his kit of tools on the floor, and lowered the sash behind him. Then he stopped to listen. No sound broke the midnight stillness. Stealthily he flashed his lantern around the room in search of objects of value. His quick ear caught the sound of a door opening and hurried footsteps in the upper hall. Instantly he adjusted a black mask and sprang behind an open door. Pistol in hand, every faculty alert, he waited. He heard the soft thud of bare feet on the padded stairs, then laboured breathing nearby.