The North Woods Mystery by Maxwell Grant & Walter Gibson

Author:Maxwell Grant & Walter Gibson [Grant, Maxwell & Gibson, Walter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Espionage, Fiction, Thrillers
ISBN: 9781608771783
Amazon: 1608771784
Publisher: Street & Smith
Published: 1936-02-15T08:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XI. PROWLERS IN THE DARK

WHEN Harry Vincent awoke, he was conscious only of complete darkness. He had slept restlessly; as he groped for a remembrance of his surroundings, he felt a sense of motion. Shakily, he gripped the edge of his cot; then gave a short laugh of relief.

A full day in a canoe had given Harry the same illusion that comes after a voyage at sea. He had accustomed himself to the motion of the water. As a result, he could still feel the movement of a canoe. It was a full three minutes before Harry could overcome the sensation. Even then, it impressed itself at intervals.

Complete silence gripped the old cabin. Amid the darkness, Harry could feel the pounding of his own heart. Recollections were drilling through his brain–snatches of the day's events. They were falling into place.

The meeting with Alphonse at Wapiti Junction; the guide's trouble at the muskeg portage; the rangers who encountered them coming into Lakimika. Those thoughts ended.

Then came a mental picture of Harley Creeland, glaring suspiciously from the rocky point. Dale Mundon, with his cheery greeting. Beaver Luke, silent in his canoe, surrounded by bobbing heads of beavers.

Harry remembered the crisp smell of bacon on the camp fire. He recalled the aroma of his last pipeload of tobacco. With that, he began to wonder why he had so suddenly awakened.

Harry glanced at the luminous dial of his wrist watch. It was vivid in this utter blackness. The time was a few minutes past eleven. That was late, here in the loneliness of Lake Lakimika. Harry grasped a flashlight that lay beneath his pillow. Just as he clutched it, he heard a sound from outdoors.

It was like a scraping, that might have come from the main door of the cabin. The only door. One that had no lock.

Harry pocketed the flashlight and thrust his hand beneath the blankets that served him as a mattress. He found another object near the foot of the cot. It was an automatic, fully loaded. Harry had placed it there in readiness.

Again the scraping. This time, Harry did not linger.

STEPPING from the cot, he found the window. With one wrench, he pulled away the tattered remnants of mosquito netting. Insects were infrequent at this time of the year. There had been no need to repair the cloth screening. That fact pleased Harry at present.

Edging from the window, Harry found the ground a few feet below. He stole toward the corner of the cabin. He looked through darkness toward the door, but saw nothing. The scraping had ended. The only sound that remained was the slight murmur of the lake.

Harry stole closer to the door. He stopped abruptly. A new sound had come. The squeak of an old hinge. Harry remembered that he had wedged the door when he closed it. The scraping had been the releasing of the barrier. That finished, some one had entered the cabin.

The front windows had been boarded for some reason. The only window to the large room was at the side of the house, closer to Harry than the door.

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