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tine symbols sewn with metallic beads.

Across the room, above the deep fireplace, two crossed machetes dangled from cords attached to the wall. Beneath the table was a small, crude wooden chest, and lying upon it was a rattle made from pebbles placed in a painted canister.

Salt shook the rattle several times. In the stillness of the room, the clatter of the pebbles seemed almost deafening to Penny's sensitive ears.

"Oh, please!" she pleaded.

"Don't you like it?" he teased.

Penny shook her head. With fascinated gaze, she stared at the flickering oil light.

"Do you suppose that thing burns all the time, Salt, or has someone just been here?"

"It couldn't burn very long, unless someone keeps refilling the shell with oil. Wonder what's in this chest?"

Salt stooped to raise the lid. As he did so, Penny, who stood close beside him, suddenly clutched his arm. At his look of surprise, she mumbled:

"I thought I heard something just then--like the rustling of silk!"

Salt listened a moment and chuckled. "That old imagination of yours is working overtime, Penny! Relax!"

"But I did hear a rustling sound as if someone were moving along the wall. Listen! There it is again!"


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