s coming back more
than ever. He wondered if he had not passed the Elm--should he go
back? But no, he could not bear the idea; that would mean retreat.
Anyhow, he would put his chalk mark here to show how far he did get.
He sneaked cautiously toward the fence to make it, then to his relief
made out the Elm not twenty-five feet away. Once at the tree, he
counted off the four panels westward and knew that he was opposite the
grave of the suicide. It must now be nearly midnight. He thought he
heard sounds not far away, and there across the road he saw a whitish
thing--the headstone. He was greatly agitated as he crawled quietly as
possible toward it. Why quietly he did not know. He stumbled through
the mud of the shallow ditch at each side, reached the white stone,
and groped with clammy, cold hands over the surface for the string. If
Caleb had put it there it was gone now. So he took his chalk and wrote
on the stone "Yan."

Oh, what a scraping that chalk made! He searched about with his
fingers around the big boulder. Yes, there it was; the wind, no doubt,
had blown it off. He pulled it toward him. The pebble was drawn across
the boulder with another and louder rasping that sounded fearfully
in the night. Then at once a gasp, a scuffle, a rush, a splash of
something in mud, or water--horrible sounds of a being choking,
strangling or trying to speak. For a moment Yan sank down in terror.
His lips refused to move. But the remembrance of the cow came to help
him. He got up and ran down the road as fast as he could go, a cold
sweat on him. He ran so blindly he almost ran into a man who shouted
"Ho, Yan; is that you?" It was Caleb coming to meet him. Yan could
not speak. He was trembling so violently that he had to cling to the
Trapper's arm.

"What was it, boy? I heard it, but what was it?"

"I--I--don't know," he gasped; "only it was at the g-g-grave."

"Gosh! I heard it, all right," and Caleb showed no little uneasiness,
but added, "We'll be back in camp in ten minutes."

He took Yan's trembling hand and led him for a little while, but he
was all right when he came to the blazed trail. Caleb stepped ahead,
groping in the darkness.

Yan now found voice to say, "I got the stone all right, and I wrote my
name on the grave, too."

"Good boy! You're the stuff!" was the admiring response.

They were very glad to see that there was a fire in the teepee
when they drew near. At the edge of the clearing they gave a loud
"_