n power to bring about.

He had had little chance for conversation with Garry in those days,
except for a word or two over a hastily snatched breakfast, or perhaps
at supper at night, and at night he was usually too tired to talk. But
the other's growing restlessness had not escaped his notice. For a
while Garry had seemed to accept his continuance there at camp as a
matter of course, and for that very reason neither Fat Joe nor Steve
had dignified the thought of his possible departure by so much as a
single spoken word. Garry's own actions first began to indicate how
incessantly he was debating that question within his own brain.

There came, times without number, an uneasy, far-focused look into his
eyes; came hours on end when he would sit, every debonaire effort at
lightness abandoned, staring moodily into the fire, motionless save for
his nervous hands which never seemed to rest. Joe found it harder to
entice him with the poker deck; oftener than not Steve had to repeat
his question a second time, seeking to inveigle him into a discussion
of what-not, before Garry even heard. And one night toward the end of
the week the latter finally reached the point of voicing for their ears
a decision which was old in anticipation to them. They were on the
point of going to bed. Garry had risen, and then paused. He hesitated
and crooked his arms and yawned, a trifle too carelessly that evening.

"Well, this finishes another day," he remarked, nor did he realize how
soulful were the words. "And I cleaned up the last of the stock-room
to-day, Joe. A swift but accurate workman, eh? I'll leave behind a
record unblemished by oversight or sloth. And now--now it's about
time, I suppose, I was going back to town."

It was out, nor could the yawn conceal his eagerness. His back was
turned, but Steve knew what light was in his eyes. Steve's
carelessness was a far neater thing than Garry's had been.

"What's your hurry?" he inquired easily. "Why rush away? And if you
think your industry has betrayed you into idleness, you're reasoning
poorly to-night. Want another job?"

Bantering indifference was the keynote of that reply. Mutually they
had adopted it from the very first. It smacked of the free-masonry
which always marked Steve's conversations with Fat Joe, were they
earnest or frivolous beneath the surface. It is always recognizable in
the speech of friends such as they, differentiated from actual
indifference