o the muzzle of the rifle and for a moment fancied that
it had moved; it seemed somewhat nearer.

Again he looked away. The tops of the distant trees beyond the bounds of
the plantation interested him: he had not before observed how light and
feathery they were, nor how darkly blue the sky was, even among their
branches, where they somewhat paled it with their green; above him it
appeared almost black. "It will be uncomfortably hot here," he thought,
"as the day advances. I wonder which way I am looking."

Judging by such shadows as he could see, he decided that his face was
due north; he would at least not have the sun in his eyes, and north--
well, that was toward his wife and children.

"Bah!" he exclaimed aloud, "what have they to do with it?"

He closed his eyes. "As I can't get out I may as well go to sleep. The
rebels are gone and some of our fellows are sure to stray out here
foraging. They'll find me."

But he did not sleep. Gradually he became sensible of a pain in his
forehead--a dull ache, hardly perceptible at first, but growing more and
more uncomfortable. He opened his eyes and it was gone--closed them and
it returned. "The devil!" he said, irrelevantly, and stared again at the
sky. He heard the singing of birds, the strange metallic note of the
meadow lark, suggesting the clash of vibrant blades. He fell into
pleasant memories of his childhood, played again with his brother and
sister, raced across the fields, shouting to alarm the sedentary larks,
entered the sombre forest beyond and with timid steps followed the faint
path to Ghost Rock, standing at last with audible heart-throbs before
the Dead Man's Cave and seeking to penetrate its awful mystery. For the
first time he observed that the opening of the haunted cavern was
encircled by a ring of metal. Then all else vanished and left him gazing
into the barrel of his rifle as before. But whereas before it had seemed
nearer, it now seemed an inconceivable distance away, and all the more
sinister for that. He cried out and, startled by something in his own
voice--the note of fear--lied to himself in denial: "If I don't sing out
I may stay here till I die."

He now made no further attempt to evade the menacing stare of the gun
barrel. If he turned away his eyes an instant it was to look for
assistance (although he could not see the ground on either side the
ruin), and he permitted them to return, obedient to the imperative
fascination. If he closed t