into the engine house to talk this over?"
suggested Roger. "You'd have privacy there."

"Don't leave me alone with him," exclaimed Mrs. von Minden. "He's not
safe."

"All right," said Roger. "I've searched him and now I'm going through
his pack, and I shall confiscate any weapon I find."

"Don't you dare to give her my strong box," shouted Crazy Dutch.

"I'll put the box back where I find it," replied Roger. "Come on, Ern,
begin."

It was a pitifully mean little pack, quite poverty stricken compared
with Mrs. von Minden's. A woolen quilt and a Navajo, a coffee pot,
frying pan and a small sack of sugar, a canteen, a flannel shirt and a
pair of ragged socks, a gun, a small strong box, with a geological
hammer, a barometer and a compass, comprised Peter's load.

Roger took the gun into the living tent and Ernest remade the pack.
During the search, Mrs. von Minden had not spoken, though she eyed the
work with keenest interest.

"Now," said Roger, "I will tell you both frankly that I don't care to
have a family row carried on in this camp."

"I'm not trying to row, certainly," exclaimed von Minden. "It's all this
woman."

"The woman is your wife, isn't she?" asked Ernest.

"In name only. I tell you I finished with women, years ago."

"But I haven't finished with you yet," commented his wife.

"What can you do to me?" sneered Crazy Dutch.

"I can do what They tell me. And They tell me to hang on to you like
grim death until They bid me stop. I shall follow you and that strong
box to the end of the earth, Otto!"

"But why! But why! You've always been glad enough to be rid of me
before."

Mrs. von Minden, her pink sunbonnet pushed back to her shoulders, her
eyes gleaming, took a menacing step toward her husband, and her voice
rose hysterically.

"I know you! I know you! With your sneaking ways and your secret
letters. I know that you're a dirty German spy. I know what that box
holds. But what I want out of it is my marriage certificate and whatever
else They tell me. I can't read German and They can. I can't throw fear
into your black heart but They can. And if I told you the way They have
interpreted some of your acts to me, you would crawl on your hands and
knees to me."

Von Minden watched the woman with a stolid face. "Who are They?" he
growled.

"They are the spirits of the dead. The great ones of the Universe are
talking to me now, Otto von Minden! They directed me here. The hand of
Fate is in it