BULLETS AND THEIR BILLETS 



mild brown eyes, that seemed always to 

 be looking at something remote, some- 

 thing below the surface, turned to me. 

 The gentle voice was without hint of 

 pity or superiority. 



"You see those footprints?" 



"Of course; every inch of the sand 

 has been walked over again and again, 

 and in all directions." 



"Yes, but I mean that line of foot- 

 prints." 



Patiently a series of impressions was 

 indicated, which it seemed just possible 

 to sort out of the intricate pattern. They 

 led to the water from a point perhaps 

 ten paces distant from it. 



"And which way was the man walk- 

 ing who left those traces?" 



"How should I know, the sand flows 

 in when the foot leaves it, so that no one 

 could say with assurance where the heel 

 rested or where the toe." 



"But was he walking forward or 

 backward?" 



188 



