The door stood ajar, and the wooden shutter of the single window hung dejectedly by one hinge.

No sign of life was visible about the place; it had the appearance of desertion, no smoke even curling from out the chimney.

A faint trail, evidently little used, led down toward the creek, and we followed this as it wound around the base of the big tree.

Then it was that the truth dawned suddenly upon us--there to our right lay a dead mule, harnessed for work, but with throat cut; while directly in front of the cabin door was a dog, an ugly, massive brute, his mouth open, prone on his back, with stiffened legs pointing to the sky.

I dropped my rein, and strode forward.
"Wait where you are," I called back.