CHAPTER XVI
THE KEY
The interior of Ike M'Graw's cabin was a place of interest to Nealeand Agnes. There was not much room, but it was neat and clean. Therewere two bunks, one over the other at one end of the room. At theother end was the big, open fireplace.
There were andirons, a chimney crane for a pot, a dutch oven, and asheet-iron shelf that could be pushed over the coals, on which the oldman baked his johnnycake, or pan-bread.
The coffee pot was already bubbling on this shelf and gave off astrong odor of Rio. The bacon was sliced, ready for the frying pan.Ike wanted to cut more and give his two young visitors a secondbreakfast; but they would not hear to that.
"We'll take a cup of coffee with you," Agnes said brightly. "But Iknow I could not possibly eat another thing. Could you, Neale?"
"Not yet," agreed the boy. "And anyway," he added, with a smile, "ifwe are going to have a big storm as they say we are, Mr. M'Graw willneed to conserve his food."
"Don't you fret, son," said M'Graw; "I've got enough pork and bacon,flour, meal and coffee, to last me clean into spring. I never stint mystomach. Likewise, as long as I can pull the trigger of Old Betseythere, I shan't go hungry in these here woods. No, sir!"
Neale stepped to the rack in the corner where stood the brown-barreledrifle the woodsman called "Old Betsey," as well as a single and adouble-barreled shotgun.
"Which of these did you use last night, Mr. M'Graw, when you shot thatfox?" Agnes asked.
"Heh? What fox?"
"Maybe it wasn't you," said the Corner House girl. "But somebody shota fox right up there in front of the Lodge."
"When was this?" demanded the old man, looking at her curiously.
Neale told him the time. The woodsman shook his head slowly.
"I was buried in my blankets by that time," he declared. "Are you surethe fox was shot, young feller?"
"I've got it hung up to get the frost out so I can skin it," saidNeale quietly.
"Shot, eh?"
"Yes, sir."
"What sort of a ball killed it?"
"A small bullet. It was no large rifle bullet," said Nealeconfidently. "I should think it was no more than a twenty-twocaliber."
"Pshaw! that's only a play-toy," returned the old man. "Who'd have agun like that up here in the woods? Guess you're mistook, youngfeller."
"When you come up to the house you take a look at the fox," saidNeale.
"I'll do that. Where'd the feller stand when he shot the fox?"
"Why," put in Agnes, as Neale hesitated, "we couldn't find hisfootprints at all."
"Humph!" muttered the old fellow.
He poured out the coffee. The cups were deep, thick, and had nohandles. He poured his own into the deep saucer, blew it noisily, andsipped it in great, scalding gulps. Agnes tried not to give thisoperation any attention.
Neale meanwhile was examining several fine skins hung upon the logwalls. There was a wolf skin among them, and a big, black bear robewas flung over the lower bunk for warmth.
"I got him," said the woodsman, "five year ago. He was in a berrypatch over against the mountain, yonder. And he was as fat as butter."
"And the wolf?" asked Agnes, with considerable interest.
"I trapped him. Last winter. He was a tremendous big feller," saidM'Graw, heaping a tin plate with johnnycake and pouring bacon greaseover it. "There's a small pack living up in the hills, and I'm likelyto get more this winter. These heavy snows will no doubt be driving'em down."
"Oh! Wolves!" gasped the girl.
"They won't bother you none," said M'Graw. "Don't go off by yourself,and if any of your party takes a long tramp, carry a gun. Like enoughyou'll get a shot at something; but not wolves. They're too sly."
The conversation of the old backwoodsman was both illuminating andamusing. And his hunting trophies were vastly interesting, at least toNeale.
There was a big photograph on the wall of Ike and another man standingon either side of a fallen moose. The great, spoon-shaped horns of thecreature were at least six feet across.
"You'll see that head up over the main mantelpiece up to the Lodge,"said M'Graw. "That's Mr. Birdsall. He an' me shot that moose over theline in Canady. But we brought the head home."
Over his own fireplace was a handsome head--that of a stag of the reddeer.
"Got him," Ike vouchsafed between bites, "down in the east swamp, tenyear ago come Christmas. Ain't been a bigger shot in this part of thecountry, I reckon, 'ceptin' the ghost deer Tom Lawrence shot threewinters ago over towards Ebettsville."
"Ghost deer!" exclaimed Neale and Agnes together.
"What does that mean?" added the boy.
"Surely you don't believe there are spirits of deer returned to earth,do you, Mr. M'Graw?" asked Agnes, smiling.
M'Graw grinned. "Ain't no tellin'. Mebbe there is. I'm mighty carefulwhat I say about ghosts," he rejoined. "But this here ghost deer,now--"
He had finished breakfast and was filling his pipe. "Lemme tell youabout it," he said. "I will say, though, 'twasn't no spirit, for I eatsome of the venison from that ghost deer.
"But for two seasons the critter had had the whole of Ebettsville bythe ears. The hunters couldn't get a shot, and some folks said 'twas asure-enough ghost.
"But if 'twas a ghost, it was the fust one that ever left footprintsin the snow. That's sure," chuckled M'Graw. "I went over there withOld Betsey once; but never got a shot at it. Jest the same I seen thefootprints, and I knowed what it was."
"What was it?"
"Looked like a ghost flying past in the twilight. It was analbino--white deer. I told 'em so. And fin'ly Tom Lawrence, as I said,shot it. Why they hadn't got it before, I guess, was because them thatshot at it shivered so for fear 'twas a ghost they couldn't hit thebroad side of a barn!" and M'Graw broke into a loud laugh.
"I did not know that deer were ever white," Agnes said.
"One o' the wonders of nature," Ike assured her. "And not frequentseen. But that critter was one--and a big one. Weighed upwards of twohundred pound. Tom give me a haunch, and when it was seasoned some,'twasn't much tougher than shoe-leather. _Me_, I kill me a doe when Iwant tender meat. My teeth is gettin' kind of wore down," chuckled theold man.
"Was it really all white?" asked Neale.
"Well, that buck's horns an' hoofs was considerable lighter in colorthan ordinary. With them exceptions, and a few hairs on the foreheadand a tuft on the hind leg, that critter was perfectly white. Queer.Jest an albino, as I said," M'Graw concluded between puffs.
Beside the chimney on a big nail driven into a log, hung a string ofrusty keys, with one big shiny brass one by itself. Agnes said:
"I guess you have to lock everything up when you leave home, don'tyou, Mr. M'Graw?"
"Me? Never lock a thing. We don't have no tramps. And if I leave homeI always leave a fire laid and everything so that a visitor can comeright in and go to housekeeping. It's a purty mean man that'll lock uphis cabin in the woods. No, ma'am. I never lock nothin'."
"But those keys?" the Corner House girl suggested curiously.
"Oh! Them? Just spare keys I picked up. All but this," and he reachedfor the brass key briskly. "This is the key to the Lodge padlock, I'mgoin' to take it up to that Mr. Howbridge of yours and tell himsomething about it. I'll walk back with you."
He slipped into his leather jacket and buckled up his leggings. Thenbanking the fire on the hearth, he said he was ready to go. He put thebig brass key in his pocket, but as he had intimated, he left thecabin door unlocked.
Once outside, they saw that the sun was clouded over again. "Thatstorm is surely a-coming," Ike observed. "I shouldn't wonder, when itdoes get here, if it turns out to be a humdinger. 'Long threaten, longlast,' they say."
When they arrived at the Lodge the old man took a look at the foxNeale had hung up. He examined the small hole under the ear where thebullet had gone into the animal's head.
"Nice shot," he muttered. "Dropped him without a struggle, I reckon.And yo
u sure are right, boy," he added to Neale. "It was a twenty-two.Nothin' bigger. Humph! mighty funny, that.
"Well, you let it hang here and I'll skin it for you before I go backhome. Fust off I want to see your Mr. Howbridge."
As M'Graw went through the hall to find the lawyer, Neale and Agneswere called by Luke from one of the sheds. His voice and beckoninghand hurried them to the spot.
"What do you know about this?" cried Luke. "Here are two perfectlygood sleds--a big one and a smaller. And one of those drivers thathave just started back for Coxford, told me where there was a dandyslide."
"Crackey, that's fine!" agreed the eager Neale.
Agnes, too, was delighted. The other girls were eager to try thecoasting.
"But we must get away without the children. It is too far for them togo," Ruth said. "At least, we must try it out before we let them joinus."
"They are all right at the front with their snow man. I just sawthem," Agnes said. "Come on!" Agnes was always ready for sport.
They started away from the house, the two boys dragging the bobsled.There were about four inches of fluffy, dry snow on top, and underthat the drifts were almost ice-hard.
"Ought to make the finest kind of sledding," Luke declared.
Meanwhile Ike M'Graw had found Mr. Howbridge reading a book in acorner of one of the comfortable settees in the big living-room. Hedropped the book and stood up to greet the woodsman with a smile.
"How are you, this morning, M'Graw?" asked the lawyer. "How about thekey?"
"Here 'tis," said the guide. "Found it just where it should be. Lookedas though it had never been touched since I was gone. But, of course,as I tell you, anybody might have been in my cabin. I don't locknothin' up."
"If the key was used, it was by somebody who knew it was the key andwhere to find it," Mr. Howbridge said reflectively.
"You struck it there," agreed Ike. "And there's only two keys to thatbig padlock. Unless there's been one made since Mr. Birdsall died," headded.
"If anybody borrowed the key and got in here, they got out again andlocked the front door and returned the key."
"So 'twould seem. You say there wasn't no marks in the snow when yourfolks fust came?"
"No."
"It snowed the day after I went away from here to Ebettsville. Theymust have come here and gone before that snow then. That snow coveredtheir tracks. How's that?"
"Not so good," the lawyer promptly told him. "You forget the liveembers in the grate. Those embers would not have stayed alive for fivedays."
"Ain't that a fac'?" muttered the old man.
They pondered in silence for a moment.
Hedden suddenly entered the room. He seemed flurried, and his employerknew that something of moment had occurred.
"What is the matter, Hedden?" the latter asked.
"I have to report, sir, that somebody has been at the goods in thepantry--the canned food and other provisions that we brought up."
"What do you mean?" asked Mr. Howbridge curiously.
"The chef, sir, says that quite a good deal of food has been stolen.He put the stuff away. There is a lot of it gone, sir--and that sincelast night at dinner time."
"Humph! Isn't that strange?" murmured the lawyer.
M'Graw grunted and started for the front door.
"Where are you going, M'Graw?" asked Mr. Howbridge.
"I'm going to find out who shot that fox," was the woodsman'senigmatical answer.
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