himself, the time ahead was provided for already!

Stalking noiselessly forward, Truedale came into the clearing, passed
White's shack, and approached his own with a fixed determination. Then
he stopped short. He was positive that he had closed windows and
doors--the caution of the city still clung to him--but now both doors
and windows were set wide to the brilliant autumn day and a curl of
smoke from a lately replenished fire cheerfully rose in the clear, dry
air.

"Well, I'll be--!" and then Truedale quietly slipped to the rear of
the cabin and to a low, sliding window through which he could peer,
unobserved. One glance transfixed him.




CHAPTER II


The furnishing of the room was bare and plain--a deal table, a couple of
wooden chairs, a broad comfortable couch, a cupboard with some
nondescript crockery, and a good-sized mirror in the space between the
front door and the window. Before this glass a strange figure was
walking to and fro, enjoying hugely its own remarkable reflection.
Truedale's bedraggled bath robe hung like a mantle from the shoulders of
the intruder--they were very straight, slim young shoulders; an old
ridiculous fez--an abomination of his freshman year, kept for
sentimental reasons--adorned the head of the small stranger and only
partly held in check the mass of shadowy hair that rippled from it and