A Timely Warning

A deep autumn haze hung low over the wooded area of Smokehole. The brisk wind rustled the leaves on the ground. This was the first day of the hunting season.

As the sun rose, bright and promising, the hunters were already in the woods trying to shoot their quota of squirrels for the day. The squirrels sensed the danger and did not venture out of their soft hiding places. As a result, not many hunters were successful, so they decided to try their luck the next morning.

Frank Genson and his son Bob did not return to the lodge. They decided to make camp and spend the night in the woods. This would give them the advantage of being up earlier and perhaps having better luck. A hasty meal was prepared over a fire built on a large flat rock. The sun was fading very fast and the forest took on the deep purple and dusty gray colors of evening.

A peaceful quietness fell over the forest and all sounds of animal life came to a stop. The two men placed their sleeping bags near the fire to keep warm and felt secure within the circle of the red glow. In the fading twilight a hunter appeared from nowhere. A hound dog, wagging his tail, followed close at his heels. Both man and dog stood just outside the fire's glow.

"Men, I wouldn't camp here for the night," he said. He explained that underneath the flat rock was a rattlesnakes' nest. "Your fire is heating the rock now," he said, "and before morning the rattlesnakes will come out and bury their fangs in you."

He turned to go and waved a hand with a missing left forefinger. After a few steps, he and his dog vanished from sight.

A bright fire welcomed the men back at the lodge. They sat down to talk with the other hunters and told them of their visitor with the missing left forefinger — and his warning.

"Missing left forefinger?" one of them asked. "Why that's the ghost of Tom Martin. Ten years ago Tom camped on that very same rock and was found dead the next morning. His body had several fang marks of rattlesnake bites."