He rose presently and entered the
abandoned cabin. The afternoon sunlight flickered palely through the
dusty windows. Several window-panes had been broken out, but the one
marked with two bullet holes, radiating tiny cracks in the glass, was
still there. The oilcloth on the table was torn and soiled. The mud
of wet weather had been tracked about the floor. The stove was rusted
and cracked. Pete wondered why men must invariably abuse things that
were patently useful, when those things did not belong to any one
especially; for the stove, the windows, the table, the two home-made
chairs showed more than disuse. They had been wantonly broken, hacked,
or battered. Some one had pried the damper from the stove, broken it
in two, and had used half of it for a lid-lifter. A door had been torn
from the wall-cupboard and split into kindling, as a few painted
splinters attested. And some one had shot several holes in the door,
evidently endeavoring to make the initial "T" with a forty-five. An
old pair of discarded overalls lay in one corner, a worn and useless
glove in another.
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