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Rather shall we frown and edge away from the ominous black board; and it is more than probable we shall avoid the trail indicated, and prefer to make a detour if our destination should chance to be Battule. Why is that board there? Who has set it up? And "the one-way trail" is the trail over which there is no returning. The message is no jest.
Out on the Edmonton trail, hundreds of miles to the north of Forks, at the crossroads where the Battule trail branches to the east, the cheerless prospect is intensified by the skeleton arms of a snow-crowned bluff.
Also there is a hand sketched roughly upon the board, with an outstretched finger pointing vaguely somewhere in the direction of the trail which leads to Battule. "This is the One-Way Trail" We read this and glance at the pointing finger which is so shaky of outline, and our first inclination is to laugh.
He reads; and while he reads his lips move like one who spells out the words he sees. "This is the One-Way Trail," he reads. And then his eyes turn in the direction of the pointing finger. He looks down the trail which leads to Battule, whither the finger is pointing, and, looking, a strange expression creeps over his dusky features. Instinctively, he understands that the warning is meant for him.
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