Excerpt from The Portrait: A Romance of the Cuyahoga Valley
It was already quite daik as he hastened on. He was familiar with all the forest paths, and could trav erse the woods anywhere without a trail, and with a sense of absolute security. AS he approached the little clearing, he ran forward and climbed upon the decay ing brush-fence that marked its uncertain limits, and paused a moment to look at the log hovel but a few rods distant the only home he could remember with its leaky roof, and decaying walls, slowly lapsing to ruin.
No window was on the Side of his approach, and he could detect no smoke escaping from the blackened opening at one end of the low roof. As he passed around to the front, he stopped to listen at the low door of rough boards that hung on rude wooden hinges. No sound reached him and with a trembling hand he pulled the string and pushed the door open, into the single, dark, silent room.
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