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Updated: May 19, 2025
Howard stood aside for them to enter. They found underfoot a bare floor; it had been sprinkled from a watering pot earlier in the afternoon. The room was big and dusky; a few rawhide-bottomed chairs, a long rough table painted moss-green, some shelves with books, furnished the apartment. At one end was a fireplace. Howard tossed his hat to the table and opened a door at one end of the room.
Nearer was the stove, its angular barrel and widespread legs giving it the appearance of some horrid, fire-belching animal. An unbroken circle of men surrounded it, hats on, rawhide-bottomed chairs tilted back to an easy slant. From their pipes and cigars smoke rose steadily and hung, a blue mist, against the sloping rafters of the roof. There was little talking in the circle.
This flying down a Sierran lumber-flume, scurrying through the heady air like another Phaeton, was too full of thrills to be taken all in one gasp. I dropped limply into the rawhide-bottomed chair under the awning in front of the big board shanty which was on stilts beside the airy flume, and gazed on down the long, gleaming, tragic, watery way to the next steep slide.
When his search was completed he sat down on the rawhide-bottomed chair, trembling, enraged, and mystified. "Am I crazy?" he asked in a low voice. "I was sure there was a man in here. But if there was, how'd he get out?" "I heard some one," whispered the little girl. She was very pale, and kept close beside him for protection. The eldest brother thought a moment.
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