pen it, and my eyes that look into
it. You don't need to avoid talk of Nita and little Coqueline if you
feel that way. You can't open that grave. It's mine. And it's deep. You
can't add hurt to that already done."

Steve's eyes were gazing unflinchingly into his companion's, and Ross's
feelings were stirred to their depths by the stern courage underlying
his words. He knew. He understood.

"Yes," he said. "I get that. It's best that way for--the man who can
stand it."

"I'm going East," Steve went on, "and I'll be away maybe a year. Maybe
less, maybe more. I can't say. You see, there's a big lot to be done,
and it depends on how quick I get through. There's my father's affairs
to fix up and--other things."

"Other things?"

"Yes."

Steve's eyes were on the rapidly softening colours of the sunset. Their
far-off look of pre-occupation had returned to them.

"I don't know how I'll come back," he went on after a moment. "Maybe in
a hurry." His brows suddenly depressed. "I can't say. But it'll be for
the boy and An-ina, and, anyway, it'll likely be the last time you'll
see me on this earth. I don't need to tell you more on this thing. Maybe
a time'll come when you'll feel glad you didn't know any more."

"I think--I understand."

Ross breathed heavily through his pipe. He was thinking of the man,
Garstaing. He was thinking of himself in Steve's place. And he felt it
was more than likely that in that case he, too, might desire to return
to his home _in a hurry_, and, perhaps, leave it again for the--last
time.

"Sure. I guessed you'd understand," Steve said. "That's why I'm
talking."

Again followed a brief, thoughtful pause.

"That boy," he went on. "It's him I want to tell you about. He's shown
me how to get a grip on myself. He's a sort of anchor that's held me
safe till the storm's blown itself out. He's been a sort of act of
Providence and the life that's left to me is for him. You get that?"

"I've had it all the time. Maybe you don't remember I tried to take him
from you when you crawled out of that darn canoe."

A shadowy smile hovered in Steve's eyes.

"I remember it--good," he said. "Well, if things should happen so I
don't get back I'll fix it so the boy gets all the stuff my father's
handed me, and I'll ask you to raise him as if he was your own. You
haven't a son, Doc. He won't be a worry. An-ina's his nurse, and he
couldn't have a better. If I come back I'm hoping your Millie won't be
too gr