the ice melting?"
"Slow. It'll be a week before we can move on." Jack swore under his breath. "And this the 22nd of May!" he cried. "We ought to have been on our land by now and ploughing. We're like to lose the whole season.
"Ill luck has dogged us from the start," Jack went on. "Our calculations were all right. We started the right time. Any ordinary year we could have gone right through on the ice. But from the very day we left the landing we were in trouble. When we wasn't broke down we was looking for lost horses. When we wasn't held up by a blizzard we was half drowned in a thaw!
"To cap all, the ice went out two weeks ahead, and we had to change to wheels, and sink to the hubs in the land trails. Now, by gad, before the ice on the shore is melted, it'll be time for the lake to freeze over again!"
"No use grousing about it," muttered Shand.
Big Jack clamped his teeth on his pipe and fell silent. For a while there was no sound in the shack but Husky muttering over his game, the licking of the wood fire, and faint, mournful intimations down the chimney from the pines. The man on the bed shuddered involuntarily, and glanced at his mates to see if they had noticed it.
This one, Joe Hagland, was considerably younger than the other three. He was a heavy, muscular youth with curling black hair and comely features, albeit somewhat marked by wilfulness and self-indulgence.
Back in the world outside he had made a brief essay in the prize-ring, not without some success. He had been driven out, however, by an epithet spontaneously applied by the fraternity: "Crying Joe Hagland."
The trouble was, he could not control his emotions.
"For God's sake, say something!" he cried at the end of a long silence. "This is as cheerful as a funeral!"
"Speak a piece yourself if you feel the want of entertainment," retorted Jack, without looking around.
"I wish to God I'd never come up to this forsaken country!" muttered Joe. "I wish I was back this minute in a man's town, with lights shining and glasses banging on the bar!"
This came too close to their own thoughts. They angrily silenced him. Joe buried his face in his arms, and another silence succeeded.
It was broken by a new sound, a soft sound between a whisper and a hum. It might have come from the pine-trees, which had many strange voices, but it seemed to be right there in the room with them. It held a dreadful suggestion of a human voice.
It had an electrical effect on the four men. Each made believe he had heard nothing. Big Jack and Shand stared self-consciously into the fire. Husky's hands holding the cards shook, and his face changed colour. Joe lifted a livid white face, and his eyes rolled wildly. He clutched the blankets and bit his lip to keep from crying out.
They moved their seats and shuffled their feet to break their hideous silence. Joe began to chatter irrelevantly.
"A funeral, that's what it is! You're like a lot of damn mutes. Who's dead, anyhow? The Irish do it better. Whoop things up! For God's sake, Jack, dig up a bottle, and let's have one good hour!"
The other three turned to him, oddly grateful for the interruption. Big Jack made no move to get the suggested bottle, nor had Joe expected him to. The liquor was stored with the rest of the outfit in the stable. None desired to have the door opened at that moment.
Young Joe's shaking voice rattled on: "I could drink a quart myself without taking breath. Lord, this is enough to give a man a thirst! What would you give for an old-fashioned skate, boys? I'd welcome a few pink elephants, myself, after seeing nothing for days. What's the matter with you all? Are you hypnotized? For the love of Mike, start something!"
The pressure of dread was too great. The hurrying voice petered out, and the shack was silent again. Husky made a bluff of continuing his game. Jack and Shand stared into the fire. Joe lay listening, every muscle tense.
It came again, a sibilant sound, as if out of a throat through clenched teeth. It had a mocking ring. It was impossible to say whence it came. It filled the room.
Young Joe's nerves snapped. He leaped up with a shriek, and, springing across the room, fell beside Shand and clung to him.
"Did you hear it?" he cried. "It's out there! It's been following me! It's not human! Don't let it in!"
They were too much shaken themselves to laugh at his panic terror. Both men by the fire jumped up and turned around. Husky knocked over his box, and the cards scattered broadcast. He sidled towards the others, keeping his eyes on the door.
"Stop your yelling!" Shand hoarsely commanded.
"Did you hear it? Did you hear it?" Joe continued to cry.
"Yes, I heard it," growled Shand.
"Me, too," added the others.
Joe's rigid figure relaxed. "Thank God!" he moaned. "I thought it was inside my head."
"Listen!" commanded Jack.
They stood close together, all their late animosities forgotten in a common fear. There was nothing to be heard but the wind in the tree-tops.
"Maybe it was a beast or a bird – some kind of an owl," suggested Husky shakily.
"No; like a voice laughing," stammered Joe.
"Right at the door like – trying to get in," added Shand.
"Open the door!" said big Jack.
No one made a move, nor did he offer to himself.
As they listened they heard another sound, like a stick rattling against the logs outside.
"Oh, my God!" muttered Joe.
The others made no sound, but the colour slowly left their faces. They were strong men and stout-hearted in the presence of any visible danger. It was the supernatural element that turned their breasts to water.
Big Jack finally crept toward the door.
"Don't open it!" shrieked Joe.
"Shut up!" growled Jack.
They perceived that it was not his intention to open it. He dropped the bar in place. They breathed easier.
"Put out the light!" said Husky.
"Don't you do it!" cried Shand. "It's nothing that can shoot in!"
Their flesh crawled at the unholy suggestion his words conveyed.
They stood elbow to elbow, backs to the fire, waiting for more. For a long time all was quiet except the trees outside. They began to feel easier. Suddenly something dropped down the chimney behind them and smashed on the hearth, scattering the embers.
The four men leaped forward as one, with a common grunt of terror. Facing around, they saw that it was only a round stone such as the chimney was built of. But that it might have fallen naturally did not lessen the fresh shock to their demoralized nerves. Their teeth chattered. They stuck close together, with terrified and sheepish glances at each other.
"By God!" muttered Big Jack. "Ice or no ice, to-morrow we move on from here!"
"I never believed in – in nothing of the kind,"
