a very cursory displacement of the soil around the spring and at the outcrop with his hands showed him the usual red soil and decomposed quartz which constituted an “indication.”  Yet none knew better than himself how disappointing and illusive its results often were, and he regretted that he had not a pan to enable him to test the soil by washing it at the spring.  If there were only a miner’s cabin handy, he could easily borrow what he wanted.  It was just the usual luck,—­“the things a man sees when he hasn’t his gun with him!”

He turned impatiently away again in the direction of the opening.  When he reached it, he found himself on a rocky hillside sloping toward a small green valley.  A light smoke curled above a clump of willows; it was from the chimney of a low dwelling, but a second glance told him that it was no miner’s cabin.  There was a larger clearing around the house, and some rude attempt at cultivation in a roughly fenced area.  Nevertheless, he determined to try his luck in borrowing a pick and pan there; at the worst he could inquire his way to the main road again.

A hurried scramble down the hill brought him to the dwelling,—­a rambling addition of sheds to the usual log cabin.  But he was surprised to find that its exterior, and indeed the palings of the fence around it, were covered with the stretched and drying skins of animals.  The pelts of bear, panther, wolf, and fox were intermingled with squirrel and wildcat skins, and the displayed wings of eagle, hawk, and kingfisher.  There was no trail leading to or from the cabin; it seemed to have been lost in this opening of the encompassing woods and left alone and solitary.

The barking of a couple of tethered hounds at last brought a figure to the door of the nearest lean-to shed.  It seemed to be that of a young girl, but it was clad in garments so ridiculously large and disproportionate that it was difficult to tell her precise age.  A calico dress was pinned up at the skirt, and tightly girt at the waist by an apron—­so long that one corner had to be tucked in at the apron string diagonally, to keep the wearer from treading on it.  An enormous sunbonnet of yellow nankeen completely concealed her head and face, but allowed two knotted and twisted brown tails of hair to escape under its frilled cape behind.  She was evidently engaged in some culinary work, and still held a large tin basin or pan she had been cleaning clasped to her breast.

Fleming’s eye glanced at it covetously, ignoring the figure behind it.  But he was diplomatic.

“I have lost my way in the woods.  Can you tell me in what direction the main road lies?”

She pointed a small red hand apparently in the direction he had come.  “Straight over thar—­across the hill.”

Fleming sighed.  He had been making a circuit of the forest instead of going through it—­and this open space containing the cabin was on a remote outskirt!

“How far is it to the road?” he asked.