As the box was dragged full into the light, a look of horror shot into Philip’s eyes.  It was the rough-box of a coffin!  Without a word, and apparently without a signal, the three surrounded him and lifted him bodily into it.  To his surprise he found himself lying upon something soft, as if the interior of his strange prison had been padded with cushions.  Then, with extreme caution, his arms were freed from under his back and strapped to his side, and other straps, broad and firm, were fastened from side to side of the box across his limbs and body, as if there were danger of his flying up and out through the top.  Another moment and a shadow fell above him, pitch gloom engulfed him.

They were dragging on the cover to the box!  He heard the rapid beating of a hammer, the biting of nails into wood, and he writhed and struggled to free his hands, to cry out, to gain the use of his legs, but not the fraction of an inch could he relieve himself of his fetters.  After a time his straining muscles relaxed, and he stopped to get his breath and listen.  Faintly there came to him the sound of subdued voices, and he caught a glimmer of light, then another, and still a third.  He saw now that half a dozen holes had been bored into the cover and sides of the box.  The discovery brought with it a sense of relief.  At least he was not to be suffocated.  He found, after an interval, that he was even comfortable, and that his captors had not only given him a bed to lie upon, but had placed a pillow under his head.

Chapter VII.  The Tragedy In The Cabin

A few moments later Philip heard the movement of heavy feet, the opening and closing of a door, and for a time after that there was silence.  Had MacGregor anticipated this, he wondered?  Was this a part of the program which the inspector had foreseen that he would play?  His blood warmed at the thought and he clenched his fists.  Then he began to think more calmly.  His captors had not relieved him of his weapons.  They had placed his service cap in the box with him and had unbuckled his cartridge belt so that he would rest more comfortably.  What did all this mean?  For the hundredth time he asked himself the question.

Returning footsteps interrupted his thoughts.  The cabin door opened, people entered, again he heard whispering voices.

He strained his ears.  At first he could have sworn that he heard the soft, low tones of a woman’s voice, but they were not repeated.  Hands caught hold of the box, dragged it across the floor, and then he felt himself lifted bodily, and, after a dozen steps, placed carefully upon some object in the snow.  His amazement increased when he understood what was occurring.