the many ledges. They jutted out at irregular
intervals, the first only six feet below, and all accessible enough to
an expert climber. A bush grew in a niche. An empty nest, riddled by
the wind, hung dishevelled from a twig. Coarse withered grass tufted the
crevices.

Far below he saw the depths of the Cove--the tops of the leafless trees,
and, glimpsed through the interlacing boughs, the rush of a mountain
rill, and a white flash as a sunbeam slanted on the foam.

He was turning away, all incredulous, when with a sudden start he looked
back. On one of the ledges was a slight depression. It was filled with
sand and earth. Imprinted upon it was the shape of a man's foot.
The ranger paused and gazed fixedly at it. "Wa'al, by the Lord!" he
exclaimed, under his breath. Presently, "But they hev no call!" he.
argued. Then once more, softly, "By the Lord!"

The mystery baffled him. More than once that day he went up to the crag
and stood and stared futilely at the footprint. Conjecture had license
and limitations, too. As the hours wore on he became harassed by the
sense of espionage. He was a bold man before the foes he knew, but this
idea of inimical lurking, of furtive scrutiny for unknown purposes,
preyed upon him. He brooded over it as he sat idle by the fire. Once he
went to the door and stared speculatively at the great profile of the
cliff. The sky above it was all a lustrous amber, for the early sunset
of the shortest days of the year was at hand. The mountains, seen partly
above and partly below it, wore a glamourous purple. There were clouds,
and from their rifts long divergent lines of light slanted down upon the
valley, distinct among their shadows. The sun was not visible--only in
the western heavens was a half-veiled effulgence too dazzlingly white to
be gazed upon. The ranger shaded his eyes with his hand.

No motion, no sound; for the first time in his life the unutterable
loneliness of the place impressed him.

"'Genie," he said, suddenly, looking over his shoulder within the cabin,
"be you-uns _sure_ ez they war--_folks?_"

"I dunno what you mean," she faltered, her eyes dilated. "They _looked_
like folks."

"I reckon they war," he said, reassuring himself. "The Lord knows I hope
they war."

*****

That night the wind rose. The stars all seemed to have burst from their
moorings, and were wildly adrift in the sky. There was a broken tumult
of billowy clouds, and the moon tossed hopelessly amongst