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As he did so, he gave a sudden start, his eyes opened to their widest extent, his under jaw dropped down, and the hand in which he held the pipe fell to his side.

The object that riveted his gaze was a letter. It had been thrust into a crack in the end of a stick of wood, and looked as though it might have been placed there on purpose to attract his attention.

"Now, don't that beat you?" exclaimed Silas, who was greatly astonished. "Who in the world has been using my wood-pile for a post-office, I'd like to know?"

If the truth must be told, Silas was frightened as well as surprised. Like all ignorant men, he was superstitious, and whenever he saw or heard anything for which he could not account on the instant, he was sure to be overcome with terror.

His first thought was to take to his heels, make the best of his way to the cabin, and send his boys back after the wagon; but if he did that, they would be sure to see the letter—they couldn't help it, if they kept their eyes open—and might they not read it and make themselves masters of some information that he alone ought to possess?