sation. Her grandfather had forgotten that the line was down everywhere except to the cabin.
Ethel crossed to the door and, opening it, looked for Loutrelle. He had tramped off through the snow, without putting on his skis, and evidently was exploring one of the old, dilapidated shacks on the other side of the road. She thought for a moment that she would call to him; then the telephone bell jangled again and, answering, she heard her grandfather's voice informing her that Sam Green Sky had left with a team more than two hours ago and ought to get through to the cabin soon. This time he did not ring off after hanging up.
She realized that he had called the first time to tell her about Sam but what she had told him had upset him so that he forgot; she knew that, in general, the Rock—with the presence of the large, empty house—was an object of disquiet for him. But this day something more particular must have occurred. Her grandfather had been perturbed when he first telephoned, and the news that a Mr. Loutrelle was going to the Rock simply had increased his agitation. But what could have happened up here?
The lines of Barney Loutrelle's letter recurred to her. "Beat it for home—particularly to the town of St. Florentin in Northern Michigan!" His friend had urged in his emphatic way, "Go! Believe me, if I were you, I'd go at once."
That surely indicated something about to happen; and then the postscript:
"You may have to look out when you get there. But you can see to yourself."
Ethel returned to the door and found Loutrelle on his way back to the cabin.
