"She probably took the lamp into another room."

"No; it went out too quick--and it went out with a crash."

He blew his horn again.

Still no answer.

"Hello! Hello!" he called loudly.

Someone stirred at the door. Jim's keen ear was turned toward the house.

"I heard her bar the door, I'll swear it."

"How foolish, Jim!" Mary whispered. "You couldn't have heard it."

"All the same I did. Here's a pretty kettle of fish! The old hellion's not even going to let us in."

He seized the lever of his horn and blew one terrific blast after another, in weird, uncanny sobs and wails, ending in a shriek like the last cry of a lost soul.

"Don't, Jim!" Mary cried, shivering. "You'll frighten her to death."

"I hope so."

"Go up and speak to her--and knock on the door."

He waited again in silence, scrambled out of the car, and fumbled his way through the shadows to the dark outlines of the cabin. He found the porch on which the front door opened.

His light foot touched the log with sure step, and he walked softly to the cabin wall. The door was not yet visible in the pitch darkness. His auto lights were turned the other way and threw their concentrated rays far down into the deep woods.

He listened intently for a moment and caught the cat-like tread of the old woman inside.

"I say--hello, in there!" he called.

Again the sound of her quick, furtive step told him that she was on the alert and determined to defend her castle against all comers. What if she should slip an old rifle through a crack and blow his head off?

She might do it, too!

He must make her open the door.

"Say, what's the matter in there?" he asked persuasively.

A moment's silence, and then a gruff voice slowly answered:

"They ain't nobody at home!"

"The hell they ain't!" Jim laughed.

"No!"

"Who are you?"

She hesitated and then growled back:

"None o' your business. Who are you?"

"We're strangers up here--lost our way. It's cold--we got to stop for the night."

"Ye can't--they's nobody home, I tell ye!" she repeated with sullen emphasis.

Jim broke into a genial laugh.

"Ah! Come on, old girl! Open up and be sociable. We're not revenue officers or sheriffs. If you've got any good mountain whiskey, I'll help you drink it."

"Who are ye?" she repeated savagely.

"Ah, just a couple o' gentle, cooing turtle-doves--a bride and groom.

Loosen up, old girl; it's Christmas Eve--and we're just a couple o'

gentle cooin' doves----"

Jim kept up his persuasive eloquence until the light of the candle flashed through the window, and he heard her slip the heavy bar from the door.

He lost no time in pushing his way inside.

Nance threw a startled look at his enormous, shaggy fur coat--at the shining aluminum goggles almost completely masking his face. She gave a low, breathless scream, hurled the door-bar crashing to the floor and stared at him like a wild, hunted animal at bay, her thin hands trembling, the iron-gray hair tumbling over her forehead.

"Oh, my God!" she wailed, crouching back.

Jim gazed at her in amazement. He had forgotten his goggles and fur coat.

"What's the matter?" he asked in high-keyed tones of surprise.

Nance made no answer but crouched lower and attempted to put the table between them.

"What t'ell Bill ails you--will you tell me?" he asked with rising wrath.

"I THOUGHT you wuz the devil," the old woman panted. "Now I KNOW it!"

Jim suddenly remembered his goggles and coat, and broke into a laugh.

"Oh!"

He removed his goggles and cap, threw back his big coat and squared his shoulders with a smile.

"How's that?"

Nance glowered at him with ill-concealed rage, looked him over from head to foot, and answered with a snarl:

"'Tain't much better--ef ye ax ME!"