Page:The trail of the golden horn.djvu/252

248 as he had never done before, the gracious and refining influence of the life and teaching of the Great Master. He had scoffed at such things in the past, but face to face with such stern realities, he knew that he could never do so again.

Thus hour after hour he kept watch, tended the fire, and listened to the sounds of the man in the bunk, which were now nothing more than senseless jabberings. Occasionally he went to the door and looked out. The night was cold, and he thought of the constable and the Indian speeding through the forest. He was thankful to have a warm abode, even though his sole companion was a demented man.

Once more he took up his position near the bunk, filled and lighted his pipe, and leaned back against the wall. When he had finished his smoke, he laid aside his pipe and looked at Bill. He was quiet now, and to all appearance asleep. North was glad of this, for he was becoming very drowsy. The room was warm and as he once more resumed his seat, he leaned his head against one of the bunk posts which was fastened to the wall. He was tired, and although he intended to keep awake, yet in a few minutes he was asleep.

He awoke with a start, overwhelmed with a feeling of dread. And none too soon, for before him was the lunatic creeping toward him with a stick of firewood raised ready to strike.

North sprang to his feet as the madman leaped forward and with a wild cry struck. Warding the blow with his right hand, the sergeant grappled with the raging demon. Then ensued a struggle such as North had never before experienced. The lunatic seemed to be possessed of superhuman strength, and several times he was on the point of gaining the mastery. To and