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At sight of his uniform Beacraft's small eyes seemed to dart fire. "What were you doing when we knocked?" I inquired. "Cooking," he replied, tersely. "Then cook breakfast for us all and Miss Brant," I said. "Mount, help Mr. Beacraft with the corn-bread and boil those eggs. Sir George, I want Murphy to stay outside, so if you would spread the cloth "
How they had found them in the darkness of the woods for we had long since left the stump-road I do not know; but the bars were there, and a brush fence; and Murphy whispered that, beyond, a cow-path led to Beacraft's house. Now, wary of ambuscade, we moved on, rifles primed and cocked, traversing a wet path bowered by willow and alder, until we reached a cornfield, fenced with split rails.
The path skirted this, continuing under a line of huge trees, then ascended a stony little hill, on which a shadowy house stood. "Beacraft's," whispered Murphy.
"This way," whispered Mount. Like a pursued man hunted through a dream, I labored on, leaden-limbed, trembling; and it seemed hours and hours ere the blue starlight broke overhead and Beacraft's dark house loomed stark and empty on the stony hill. Suddenly the ghostly call of a whippoorwill broke out from the willows. Mount answered; Elerson appeared in the path, making a sign for silence.
"Of course," he said, nervously; and I started up the flimsy wooden stairway, which shook as I mounted. Beacraft's malignant eyes followed me for a moment, then he thrust his hands into his pockets and glowered at Mount, who, whistling cheerfully, squatted before the fireplace, blowing the embers with a pair of home-made bellows. On the floor above, four doors faced the narrow passage-way.
The melancholy of the deserted home oppressed me, as though I had wronged it; the sad little house seemed to be watching me out of its humble windows, like a patient dog awaiting another blow. Beacraft's worn coat and threadbare vest, limp and musty as the garments of a dead man, hung on a peg behind the door.
Murphy follows me.... And I think we should be on our way," he added, impatiently. We walked back to the house, where old man Stoner and his two big boys stood with our riflemen, drinking flip. "Elerson," I said, "ride my mare and lead the other horses back to Varicks'. Murphy, you will pilot us to Beacraft's. Jack, go forward with Murphy."
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