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 



