Blair crossed to an open shed near by and returned with half a deer haunch, which he tied upon Wade’s pack-horse.

“My ole woman’s ailin’.  Do you happen to hev some terbaccer?

“I sure do—­both smokin’ an’ chewin’, an’ I can spare more chewin’.  A little goes a long ways with me.”

“Wal, gimme some of both, most chewin’,” replied Blair, with evident satisfaction.

“You acquainted with Belllounds?” asked Wade, as he handed over the tobacco.

“Wal, yes, everybody knows Bill.  You’d never find a whiter boss in these hills.”

“Has he any family?”

“Now, I can’t say as to thet,” replied Blair.  “I heerd he lost a wife years ago.  Mebbe he married ag’in.  But Bill’s gittin’ along.”

“Good day to you, Blair,” said Wade, and took up his bridle.

“Good day an’ good luck.  Take the right-hand trail.  Better trot up a bit, if you want to make camp before dark.”

Wade soon entered the spruce forest.  Then he came to a shallow, roaring river.  The horses drank the water, foaming white and amber around their knees, and then with splash and thump they forded it over the slippery rocks.  As they cracked out upon the trail a covey of grouse whirred up into the low branches of spruce-trees.  They were tame.

“That’s somethin’ like,” said Wade.  “First birds I’ve seen this fall.  Reckon I can have stew any day.”

He halted his horse and made a move to dismount, but with his eyes on the grouse he hesitated.  “Tame as chickens, an’ they sure are pretty.”

Then he rode on, leading his pack-horse.  The trail was not steep, although in places it had washed out, thus hindering a steady trot.  As he progressed the forest grew thick and darker, and the fragrance of pine and spruce filled the air.  A dreamy roar of water rushing over rocks rang in the traveler’s ears.  It receded at times, then grew louder.  Presently the forest shade ahead lightened and he rode out into a wide space where green moss and flags and flowers surrounded a wonderful spring-hole.  Sunset gleams shone through the trees to color the wide, round pool.  It was shallow all along the margin, with a deep, large green hole in the middle, where the water boiled up.  Trout were feeding on gnats and playing on the surface, and some big ones left wakes behind them as they sped to deeper water.  Wade had an appreciative eye for all this beauty, his gaze lingering longest upon the flowers.

“Wild woods is the place for me,” he soliloquized, as the cool wind fanned his cheeks and the sweet tang of evergreen tingled his nostrils.  “But sure I’m most haunted in these lonely, silent places.”

Bent Wade had the look of a haunted man.  Perhaps the consciousness he confessed was part of his secret.