His astonishment rendered him oblivious to all else.  He merely gazed out across that deceptive flat and wondered.  Why—­why had this thing been done, and what strange freak had induced the “hustler” to conceive such a form of imprisonment for his captive?  Horrocks struggled with his confusion, but he failed to fathom the mystery, and never was a man’s confusion worse confounded than was his.

Presently he bethought him of his bonds, and he cautiously tried them.  They were quite unyielding, and, at each turn of his arms, they caused him considerable pain.  The Breeds had done their work well, and he realized that he must wait the raider’s pleasure.  He was certain of one thing, however, which brought him a slight amount of comfort.  He had been brought here for a definite purpose.  Moreover, he did not believe that he was to be left here alone for long.  So, with resignation induced by necessity, he possessed himself of what patience he best could summon.

How long that solitary vigil lasted Horrocks had no idea.  Time, in that predicament, was to him of little account.  He merely wondered and waited.  He considered himself more than fortunate that his captors had seen fit to remove the bandage from his eyes.  In spite of his painful captivity he felt less helpless from the fact that he could see what might be about him.

From a general survey his attention soon became riveted upon the muskeg spread out before him, and, before long, his thoughts turned to the secret path which he knew, at some point near by, bridged the silent horror.  All about him was lit by the starry splendor of the sky.  The scent of the redolent grass of the great keg hung heavily upon the air and smelt sweet in his nostrils.  He could see the ghostly outline of the distant peaks of the mountains, he could hear the haunting cries of nightfowl and coyote; but these things failed to interest him.  Familiarity with the prairie made them, to him, commonplace.  The path—­the secret of the great keg.  That was the absorbing thought which occupied his waiting moments.  He felt that its discovery would more than compensate for any blunders he had made.  He strained his keen eyes as he gazed at the tall waving grass of the mire, as though to tear from the bosom of the awful swamp the secret it so jealously guarded.  He slowly surveyed its dark surface, almost inch by inch, in the hopes of discovering the smallest indication or difference which might lead to the desired end.

There was nothing in what he saw to guide him, nothing which offered the least suggestion of a path.  In the darkness the tall waving grass took a nondescript hue which reached unbroken for miles around.  Occasionally the greensward seemed to ripple in the breeze, like water swayed by a soft summer zephyr, but beyond this the outlook was uniform—­darkly mysterious—­inscrutable.

His arms cramped under the pressure of the restraining bonds and he moved uneasily.  Now and again the rustling of the leaves overhead caused him to listen keenly.  Gradually his fancy became slightly distorted, and, as time passed, the sounds which had struck so familiarly upon his ears, and which had hitherto passed unheeded, began to get upon his nerves.