At this startling sound from the grimness of the forest, the lone camper started, seized his rifle, and leaped to his feet.

“Who are you?” he demanded.  “Stop, or I’ll shoot.”

“It’s only me,” Curly hastened to reply, as he stepped forth, into the circle of light.  “Ye wouldn’t shoot a friend, would ye, Dan?”

The latter lowered his rifle, and stared with undisguised surprise upon his visitor.

“Well, fer the love of heaven!” he exclaimed, scanning closely the wretched creature who had so unexpectedly appeared.  “Where did you drop from? and what has happened?”

“Give me something to eat,” Curly gasped, “an’ then I’ll tell ye.  I’m almost dead.”

Laying aside his rifle, the other opened a bag nearby and produced several hard-tack biscuits.  Like a ravenous beast Curly seized and devoured them.

“More, more,” he begged.

“I’m short myself,” Dan informed him, as he again thrust his hand into the bag.  “There, take them,” and he tossed over two more biscuits.

When Curly had eaten the last crumb, he searched into a hole in his jacket and brought forth an old blackened pipe.

“Got any tobacco, Dan?  Mine’s all gone.”

Without a word the latter passed him part of a plug.

“A match,” was the next request.

“What d’ye think I am?” was the curt reply; “a store?  Get a light fer yourself,” and Dan motioned to the fire.  “I can’t spare any matches.”

Curly did as he was ordered, lighted his pipe with a small burning stick, and then stretched himself out before the fire.  He was a sorry looking spectacle, and Dan watched him curiously.

“What’s the matter, Curly?” he asked.  “Where have you been?”

“Where d’ye think I’ve been?” was the surly reply.  “Where do I look as if I’d been?  To a Garden Party?”

“Well, no, judging by your appearance.  Haven’t been mauled by a grizzly, have you?”

“No, worse than a grizzly.  I’ve been in the hands of devils, that’s where I’ve been.  And his Satanic majesty was there, too.”

“H’m, it’s rather early, isn’t it, Curly?” and Dan grinned.

“Early!  What d’ye mean?”

“Nothing, except that ye didn’t expect to meet the devil an’ his bunch until ye cashed in, did ye?”

“Oh, I see.  But we’ll be pardners, then, Dan, never fear.  But if the devil an’ his gang are any worse than the ones at Glen West, then the outlook isn’t very bright for either of us.”

“So you’ve been in Jim Weston’s hands, eh?” Dan queried, while his eyes closed to a narrow squint.

“Should say I have, an’ just barely escaped.  It was terrible!” Curly’s hands trembled, and into his eyes came a look of fear as he glanced apprehensively around.  “Ye don’t suppose they’ve followed me, do you?”

“Don’t be a fool,” Dan chided.  “D’ye want me to tell ye something?”