In silence we waited. The woods had 

 taught Sally and me not to exercise 

 our feminine prerogative of speech 

 on all occasions in or out of season, 

 and it was characteristic of these 

 men that no one asked a question of 

 Creche as to his recent whereabouts. 

 It would all come out in time, and 

 there was plenty of time for that, 

 but not to get started. 



George glanced twice up the bank 

 toward the cabin, which indicated 

 his state of mind, for he never showed 

 emotion. 



"Crosby's with the boss," re- 

 marked our camp boy, laconically as 

 he too rested his paddle with the 

 motionless fleet. 



Crosby was a teamster from Trois 

 Lacs. So this much we knew, our 

 canny Creche had not carried a hun- 

 dred pounds forty-five miles, but 

 had ridden in state. He had, how- 

 ever, a blotched and bleary look 

 which indicated loss of sleep and 

 bad rum. 



Our host now appeared and con- 

 cealed whatever his feelings might 

 be with his usual genial expression. 

 Being a man of affairs, he did not 



