uisers of
emotion, their aversion for Spurling was plain. Sometimes, when his
back was turned and they thought that they were unobserved, they would
glance swiftly up at one another, and an expression would come into
their eyes, a small pin-point of angry fire, which betokened danger
for the man they hated. Very strangely to Granger, since Spurling's
arrival, they had manifested a great fondness for being in his own
company; one or other of them was never far from his side. Though he
turned upon them angrily, telling them that he wished to be by
himself, they continually disobeyed and, next minute, like faithful
dogs, with apologetic faces, were to be found watching near by. What
was the motive of their conduct? Did they think that he was in danger,
and required protecting?

But there was a graver happening which he had noticed. With Spurling's
return, he had thought that now certainly he had solved the mystery of
the signalling to the bend. On the first day, however, he had found
himself mistaken. Sitting in the doorway of his store, he had watched
the undesired one go down to the pier, push off in a canoe, and paddle
down-river for a bathe. Quarter of a mile from the bend, he had seen
him back-water, rise to his knees, gaze straight ahead in a startled
manner, and then, turning quickly about, come racing back like one
pursued for his life. Looking round, he had seen that Peggy and
Eyelids were also witnessing these tactics, with expressions which
betrayed their consternation. As he watched, they had raised their
hands and waved. When Spurling had landed, he had been waiting for him
at the pier-head. "What was it that you saw over there?" he asked
sternly.

Spurling, being panic-stricken, had at first found difficulty in
recovering his voice. Then, "Where? What do you mean?" he had panted.

Granger, in silence, had pointed northeasterly towards the bend.

With a nervous laugh, though his face was bloodless, Spurling had
replied, "Nothing. I saw nothing. I just thought that it looked a bit
lonesome, . . . so I turned back."

Gazing at him attentively, and seeing how he trembled, Granger knew
that he had not answered truly. With a shrug of his shoulders,
twisting round on his heel, he had said sneeringly, "On the Last
Chance River we don't run away from loneliness as though the hangman
were behind us. If we did, we should be running all the time."

He had not stayed to see the effect of his words, but long afterwa