friendly forest, ready to shelter him, to soothe him, and to
receive him into its arms for peaceful sleep.

He found a place among thick trees where the leaves of last year
lay deep upon the ground. He drew up enough of them for a soft
bed, because now and for the moment he was a forest sybarite. He
was wise enough to take his ease when he found it, knowing that
it would pay his body to relax.

He lay down upon the leaves, placed the rifle by his side, and
spread the blanket over himself and the weapon. The twilight was
gone, and the night, dark and without stars, as he wished to see
it, rolled up, fold after fold, covering and hiding everything.
He looked a little while at a breadth of inky sky showing through
the leaves, and then, free from trouble or fear, he fell asleep.





CHAPTER II

THE MYSTERIOUS HAND


Henry slept until a rosy light, filtering through the leaves,
fell upon his face. Then he sprang up, folded the blanket once
more upon his back, and looked about him. Nothing had come in
the night to disturb him, no enemy was near, and the morning sun
was bright and beautiful. The venison was exhausted, but he