out his due. Larison immediately picked up his bundle and started for his cabin.
How fast he did walk! And how fragrant was that ham as it fried and cooked in the new fire on the hearthstone! The bag of gold he laid on the table. Now and then the young man turned his eye from the pan to the gold with a happy heart. One more day, then home!
He set the pan of frizzing ham on the table, closed the door, and sat down to his meal.
Suddenly there was a noise outside. The young man started to his feet, trembling and pale.
“The door was now broken open with a terrific crash.” The noise grew louder, as of many feet, now close to the door.
But he did not lose his presence of mind. He was certain the noise was of the four men he had seen at the card-table.
He had noticed them shrink from him and whisper among themselves. At the time he had thought they were referring to the fresh marks of smallpox on his face. The singular way in which the storekeeper had set down his name on the wall confirmed him in this. But why should those men come to rob him if they believed he had the smallpox? Was his gold more precious to them than life?
How quickly a man thinks at a time like this! What was to be done? He was alone and unarmed. There were, he believed, four burglars—no doubt, all well armed. The noise grew louder. There was a great battering at the frail door.
Suddenly Larison made his plan. He dashed the gold against the stone wall that formed the back of the chimney. The precious contents sank down safe in the deep ashes.
Then with one bound Larison sprang up high in the topmost bunk and covered his face as he groaned: “Smallpox! Smallpox!”
The door was now broken open with a terrific crash.
Then Larison heard the din and rattle and noise of heavy feet. But there was no word spoken except by the youth with covered face, high up in the corner, who uttered the wail of “Smallpox! Smallpox! Smallpox!”
After a time Larison paused to listen. He could now hear nothing at all but the beating of his heart. He rubbed his hands with glee at the thought of his shrewd device. The gold, he knew, was all there in the ashes. Half an hour’s washing would restore it to him. Then he would get the rest out of the pocket, and strike for Massachusetts by the shortest possible route. Planning this, still full of heart and hope, he turned over in his bunk and fell asleep.
The sun was high when he awoke. Peering out cautiously, quite ready to hide his head and cry, “Smallpox!” at the first sight or sound of an intruder, he saw, heard—nothing at all!
Then he came down and looked about. The crackers were gone. The frying-pan lay upside down on the floor, The ham was gone also!
Turning to the door in a bewildered fashion, he saw on the soft earth outside the tracks of his assailant. They were big, broad tracks—the tracks of a grizzly bear. The smell of ham had made the bear a burglar!
But Larison was rich!
