"No ha'nts." Barr seemed perplexed, as though there was something about
the mission he no longer understood. "Push the door an' go in."
"Sure," Jeff said agreeably.
He opened the door and felt Pete go tense beside him. Jeff gripped his
shotgun with both hands, preparing to bring it crashing down on the
man's head. Pete would kill without imperiling himself, if he could, and
almost his only chance would occur when they entered the dark cabin. But
Barr knew this too.
"Stay here," he ordered his cousin. And to Jeff, "Got a match in your
pocket?"
"Yep."
"Go in by yourself an' light hit. Strike hit to the tallow candle
that'll be settin' on the table."
Jeff entered, felt the cabin's walls enclose him, and had a strange
feeling that Barr Whitney was a complete fool. It would be simple to
swing suddenly, cock the shotgun as he swung and, always supposing he
had some live ammunition, send a leaden hail back through the door. Then
he understood.
Barr was no fool. He had merely gauged Jeff and he knew men. He had
known that Pete would turn and shoot if sent in first, but Jeff would
not. Besides, Jeff thought wryly, though Pete might be forced to stand
in any line of fire that might sweep out the door, Barr would be
elsewhere.
Jeff took a match from his pocket, struck it, and looked around the
cabin. It was one fairly large room, and at the far end was a natural
stone fireplace. There was a table, three chairs, two double bunks built
one on top of the other, cooking utensils hanging from wooden pegs
driven into the wall, and small windows. The cabin was either a
bachelor's home or else it was used only on occasion by some person or
persons who had reason to spend time here. Jeff touched his dying match
to the fat tallow candle that stood on the table and flicked the burned
match onto the floor.
"Come on in," he said cheerfully. "And welcome to our happy home!"
Pete's face was cold, and that was almost the only expression. He strode
to a chair, pulled it away from the table and sat down with his rifle
across his lap. Jeff stood his shotgun in a corner and turned to face
Barr.
"Snug little den," he said pleasantly.
Barr looked puzzled and said nothing. However, the burning determination
and the sternness were partly gone from his face. This was a serious
business but Jeff was not accepting it seriously. Never flicking his
eyes from his captives, Barr pulled a chair very close to the door.
"Here we be," he pronounced, "an' here we stay 'til the sun lightens the
topmost twigs on the big pines."
"That's cute," Jeff declared admiringly. "That's really cute!"