er storm. But in winter the crossroads
are usually deserted.

Contrary to custom, however, it is evident that a horseman has
recently visited the bluff. For there are hoof-prints on one of the
crossing trails; on the trail which comes from somewhere in the south.
The marks are sharp indentations and look fresh, but they terminate as
the crossing is reached. Here they have turned off into the bush and
are lost to view. The matter is somewhat incomprehensible.

But there is something still more incomprehensible about the desolate
place. Just beyond where the hoof-prints turn off a lightning-stricken
pine tree stands alone, bare and blackened by the fiery ordeal through
which it has passed, and, resting in the fork of one of its shriveled
branches, about the height of a horseman's head, is a board--a black
board, black as is the tree-trunk which supports it.

As we draw nearer to ascertain the object of so strange a phenomenon
on a prairie trail we learn that some one has inscribed a message to
those who may arrive at the crossing. A message of strange meaning and
obscure. The characters are laboriously executed in chalk, and have
been emphasized with repeated markings and an attempt at block
capitals. Also there is a hand sketched roughly upon the board, with
an outstretched finger pointing vaguely somewhere in the direction of
the trail which leads to Battule.

"_This is the One-Way Trail_"

We read this and glance at the pointing finger which is so shaky of
outline, and our first inclination is to laugh. But somehow before the
laugh has well matured it dies away, leaving behind it a look of
wonder not unmixed with awe. For there is something sinister in the
message, which, though we do not understand it, still has power to
move us. If we are prairie folk we shall have no inclination to laugh
at all. Rather shall we frown and edge away from the ominous black
board; and it is more than probable we shall avoid the trail
indicated, and prefer to make a detour if our destination should
chance to be Battule.

Why is that board there? Who has set it up? And "the one-way trail" is
the trail over which there is no returning. The message is no jest.

The coldly gleaming sun has set, and at last a horse and rider enter
the bluff. They turn off into the bush and are seen no more. The long
night passes. Dawn comes again, and, as the daylight broadens, the
horseman reappears and rides off down the trail. At eve