A Story of Stark Adventure
With An Uncanny Climax
THE OUTCASTS
UNDER the half-exposed roots of a small oak, ingeniously screened from detection by chance passers by, crouched a small gray rabbit. A winter wind shrieked through the denuded tree-tops of a narrow strip of wood which shabbily clothed the tortuous ice-ribbon of what had been a creek. It was a bleak, cheerless day.
The rabbit suddenly lifted his alert ears, then as quickly dropped them flat upon his furry back and crouched yet closer to the earth. His round pop-eyes grew larger, his nostrils quivered at clearly scented danger, and instinctive fear clutched his timorous heart.
The next instant, like a missile from a catapult, he launched his lithe body outward and downward. He struck the surface of the frozen creek with something of a shock, his out-thrust claws strove vainly for a hold, and he turned over and slid far along the ice.
In the same instant a heavy club, hurled by a master hand from behind, crashed upon the ice a bare yard ahead of him. Thinking to flee from the nearest peril, he sprang up frantically and leaped away to the rear. Scarce two bounds and a great dark object loomed sheer above him.
In one sickening flash now it came upon him that he had been tricked. Like a caroming ball of rubber, he sprang sidewise in the precise instant that the Thing of Menace above him descended and sprawled upon the ice. In half a dozen heart-beats the cottontail’s sprightly legs had carried him almost as many rods in the direction of safety.
The sprawling thing struggled to its feet with an oath that rang to the heavens—and lo! it was a man.
As his voice resounded along the wooded hillside the look in the man’s face changed. What had been grim purpose became faint apprehension. He glanced about quickly as though he expected to see some one approaching. No living thing was anywhere to be seen, however—the January wind, shrilling through the naked branches of the trees, was the Man’s only companion.
A few snowflakes sifted down and whirled crazily before the blast. The Man regarded them listlessly, perhaps for a full minute; then he vented another oath, but, unlike the first, it was a guarded, if bitter, execration that hinted at a desire to keep aloof from man, to betray his presence to no person or thing that might be hostile to his aims.
The Man advanced and recovered his club, lying where he had driven it with all his strength at the nimble quarry; then, shivering in his meager clothing, he
