over had had time to think.

Thornly had thought! Never in his life had he thought so deeply and
intensely, and from out the thought and love the soul of Janet had
evolved and become fixed upon the canvas. "It is a masterpiece!" cried
the artist in the man, as he gazed upon the glorious face.

"It is my woman!" responded the man in the artist. "My Spirit of the
dunes with the strength of the Hills and the mystery of the sea."

A sudden knock shattered the ecstasy. "Come!" called Thornly and turned
to meet his guest. Mark Tapkins awkwardly entered. Mark had been a great
resource to Thornly lately. Unconsciously he had been a link between
Janet and the Hills. In his slow, dull fashion he repeated all he saw
and heard at the Station, and Thornly, trusting to Tapkins's
uncomprehending manner, sent messages to the dunes that he knew Janet's
keener wit would interpret and understand. But Thornly had still
something to learn about Tapkins.

"Any news this morning?" he said cheerily, pushing a stool toward Mark.

"She's come off," said Tapkins with his eyes fixed upon "The Pimpernel."

"Is already off?" Thornly's color rose. "You know you said they were
coming soon."

"They've come! Her an' Billy is down t' Davy's."

"And Billy, how is he?" asked Thornly.

"Middlin'. But he ain't complainin' none. Say, Mr. Thornly, I don't know
as you understand why I've been runnin' here so much lately? You see I
wanted, so t' speak, t' git the lay o' the land 'twixt you an'--her!"

Tapkins kept his eyes upon the vivid face, only by its inspiration could
he hold to his purpose.

"Have you got it, Tapkins?" Thornly bent closer and gazed at his visitor
keenly.

"I seem t' sense it," was the low reply. "Travel an' city ways, Mr.
Thornly, make men understand each other." The old foolish conceit added
dignity to the evident purpose with which Mark was struggling. "Now,
over t' the Station the crew think you're a 'vestigator!"

So they had been talking him over, those quiet, apparently unobservant
men!

"What do they think I'm investigating, Tapkins?" Thornly's gaze
contracted, and he clasped his hands rigidly around his knees. He felt
as if he were before a bar of justice and he must weigh the evidence
against himself.

"The sand bar," Mark replied. "Every once so often some fellers come
down here with a fool notion o' cuttin' down the sand bar, an' dredge
deep enough to make a inlet int' the bay."

"Perhaps they may, some day,