his eyes and said: "We will resume the inquest."

The men removed their hats. The witness was sworn.

"What is your name?" the coroner asked.

"William Harker."

"Age?"

"Twenty-seven."

"You knew the deceased, Hugh Morgan?"

"Yes."

"You were with him when he died?"

"Near him."

"How did that happen--your presence, I mean?"

"I was visiting him at this place to shoot and fish. A part of my
purpose, however, was to study him, and his odd, solitary way of life.
He seemed a good model for a character in fiction. I sometimes write
stories."

"I sometimes read them."

"Thank you."

"Stories in general--not yours."

Some of the jurors laughed. Against a sombre background humor shows high
lights. Soldiers in the intervals of battle laugh easily, and a jest in
the death chamber conquers by surprise.

"Relate the circumstances of this man's death," said the coroner. "You
may use any notes or memoranda that you please."

The witness understood. Pulling a manuscript from his breast pocket
he held it near the candle, and turning the leaves until he found the
passage that he wanted, began to read.

II

"...The sun had hardly risen when we left the house. We were looking for
quail, each with a shotgun, but we had only one dog. Morgan said that
our best ground was beyond a certain ridge that he pointed out, and we
crossed it by a trail through the _chaparral_. On the other side was
comparatively level ground, thickly covered with wild oats. As we
emerged from the _chaparral_, Morgan was but a few yards in advance.
Suddenly, we heard, at a little distance to our right, and partly in
front, a noise as of some animal thrashing about in the bushes, which we
could see were violently agitated.

"'We've started a deer,' said. 'I wish we had brought a rifle.'

"Morgan, who had stopped and was intently watching the agitated
chaparral, said nothing, but had cocked both barrels of his gun, and was
holding it in readiness to aim. I thought him a trifle excited, which
surprised me, for he had a reputation for exceptional coolness, even in
moments of sudden and imminent peril.

"'O, come!' I said. 'You are not going to fill up a deer with
quail-shot, are you?'

"Still he did not reply; but, catching a sight of his face as he
turned it slightly toward me, I was struck by the pallor of it. Then I
understood that we had serious business on hand, and my first conjecture
was that we had 'jumped' a grizzly. I adva