"It was three miles to the hypothetical camp, but the two tired, hungry
men in their rather wretched clothes started hopefully. And after a hard
tramp through unbroken forest they came in sight of a log shanty and
their spirits rose. 'Pretty tired work,' Rafael said it was. When they
got close to the shanty they hoard a noise inside. They halted and
looked at each other. Rafael knew there were no loggers in these parts
now, and you'll remember it was absolutely wild country. Then something
came to the window and looked out."

"_Something_?" repeated the Frenchman in italics. His eyes were wide and
he was as intent on Rafael's story as heart could desire.

"They couldn't tell what it was," I went on. "A formless apparition, not
exactly white or black, and huge and unknown of likeness. The Indians
were frightened by a manner of unearthliness about the thing, and the
brother-in-law fell on his knees and began to pray. 'It is the devil,'
he murmured to Rafael. 'He will eat us, or carry us to hell.' And he
prayed more.

"But old Rafael, scared to death, too, because the thing seemed not to
be of this world, yet had his courage with him. 'Mebbe it devil,' he
said--such was his report to me--'anyhow I'm cold and hungry, me. I want
dat camp. I go shoot dat devil.'

"He crept up to the camp alone, the brother still praying in the bush.
Rafael was rather convinced, mind you, that he was going to face the
powers of darkness, but he had his rifle loaded and was ready for
business. The door was open and he stepped inside. Something--'great
beeg somet'ing' he put it--rose up and came at him, and he fired. And
down fell the devil."