e. It's too bad, isn't it--"

Then they faded through the doorway, and Barry could hear no more. But
he found himself looking after them, wondering about many
things,--about the girl and her interest in Fred Thayer, and whether
she too might be a part of the machinery which he felt had been set up
against him; about the big, grinning Ba'tiste, who still remained in
the room; who now was fumbling about with the bedclothes at the foot of
the bed and--

"Ouch! Don't--don't do that!"

Barry suddenly had ceased his thoughts to jerk his feet far up under
the covers, laughing and choking and striving to talk at the same time.
At the foot of the bed, Ba'tiste, his eyes twinkling more than ever,
had calmly rolled back the covering and just as calmly tickled the
injured man's feet. More, one long arm had outstretched again, as the
giant once more reached for the sole of a foot, to tickle it, then to
stand back and boom with laughter as Barry involuntarily sought to jerk
the point of attack out of the way. For a fourth time he repeated the
performance, followed by a fourth outburst of mirth at the recoil from
the injured man. Barry frowned.

"Pardon me," he said rather caustically. "But I don't get the joke."

"Ho, ho!" and Ba'tiste turned to talk to the shaggy dog at his side.
"_L'enfant_ feels it! _L'enfant_ feels it!"

"Feel it," grunted Houston. "Of course I feel it! I'm ticklish."

"You hear, Golemar?" Ba'tiste, contorted with merriment, pointed
vaguely in the direction of the bed, "M'sieu l' Nobody, heem is
ticklish!"

"Of course I'm ticklish. Who isn't, on the bottom of his feet?"

The statement only brought a new outburst from the giant. It nettled
Houston; further, it caused him pain to be jerking constantly about the
bed in an effort to evade the tickling touch of the trapper's big
fingers. Once more Ba'tiste leaned forward and wiggled his fingers as
if in preparation for a new assault, and once more Barry withdrew his
pedal extremities to a place of safety.

"Please don't," he begged. "I--I don't know what kind of a game you're
playing--and I'm perfectly willing to join in on it when I feel
better--but now it hurts my arm to be bouncing around this way. Maybe
this afternoon--if you've got to play these fool games--I'll feel
better--"

The thunder of the other man's laugh cut him off. Ba'tiste was now, it
seemed, in a perfect orgy of merriment. As though weakened by his
laughter, he reeled