and waited until the top was se- 

 cured before answering. 



George always was deliberate and 

 spoke in low tones, wasting no words 

 as though game was near. 



"No need to worry about Nate. 

 He won't hurt himself. Likely won't 

 see that bundle afore he gets to the 

 River." 



A snake-like suspicion darted 

 through my sympathy for the absent 

 Creche the River, a girl in white 

 waving farewell, a torrent of bad 

 French under a window. 



" Was there a dance at Trois Lacs 

 last night, George? " 



"Not as I knows of." 



"To-night, perhaps?" 



George's eyes betrayed slow sur- 

 prise, then twinkled. 



" No 'm. To-morrow night the 

 Frenchies have a blow out." 



To-morrow night! Keep us wait- 

 ing for three days. He would never 

 dare. I dismissed the idea as pre- 

 posterous. Surely he was liable to 

 appear at any moment. 



We spent the day watching, wait- 

 ing, fuming. My thoughts alter- 

 nated between sympathy for poor 



