August began to suspect something wrong, but he felt that he had gone too
far to turn back now, and with his hand on the butt of his trusty
revolver, he went forward, resolving to see the adventure through to the
end.
Every now and then a bush would brush the face of Bordine, showing that
the path was narrow and the wood dense.
Presently a light flashed through the darkness, and soon our two
pedestrians found themselves in front of a log cabin, that stood a few
yards back from a narrow, brawling creek, whose waters were lashed to
foam over rocks and stones.
"This is the place."
Mr. Jones pushed open the door and bade his companion enter.
"Go on; I will follow."
Thus urged, the man walked into a dimly-lighted room, which was almost
entirely bare of furniture.
August followed and gazed about the cabin, not a little surprised to find
it empty. A light burned on a shelf at one side of the room--a tallow
dip--that sputtered and threatened soon to leave the place in total
darkness.
The cabin presented no evidence of having been inhabited of late.
One glance about the room, then August regarded his guide for the first
time in the light.
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