The little knapsack, the teacup and coffee-pot that had hung near his bed, were gone also.

The most indignant protest, the most pathetic of the letters he had composed and rejected, whose torn fragments still littered the floor, could never have spoken with the eloquence of this empty space! The men exchanged no words: the solitude of the cabin, instead of drawing them together, seemed to isolate each one in selfish distrust of the others.

Even the unthinking garrulity of Union Mills and the Judge was checked.

A moment later, when the Left Bower entered the cabin, his presence was scarcely noticed.
The silence was broken by a joyous exclamation from the Judge.

He had discovered the Old Man's rifle in the corner, where it had been at first overlooked.