he rarely permitted
himself companionship at such times, but to-day, after his noon meal, he
had been unable to keep away from the Lodge.

"Fall's setting in early," Mrs. McAdam went on; "pickerel come; whitefish
go. Beasts and fish and birds ken a lot, Mr. Farwell."

"They certainly do. The more you live with dumb creatures, the more you
are impressed with that. Is that Sandy's dog, Mrs. McAdam?"

A yellow, lank dog came sniffing around the side of the house and lay
down, friendly wise, by Farwell.

"Yes, and he's a cute one. Do you believe me, Mr. Farwell, that there
Bounder knows the engine of our boat! Any other boat can come into the
Channel and he don't take any notice, but let my boys be out late and
Bounder, lying asleep on the floor, will start up at the chugging of the
launch and make for the dock. He never makes a mistake."

Farwell laughed and bent over to smooth Bounder's back.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"Six-thirty," Mary replied with alarming readiness. "Six-thirty, and the
clock's a bit slow at that."

Farwell felt sure it was a good ten minutes slow; but because of that he
turned the conversation.

"Jerry McAlpin was telling me to-day," he said in his low, pleasant
voice, "of how he and others used to smuggle liquor over the border.
Jerry seems repenting of his past."

Mary laughed and shrugged her shoulders.

"My man and Jerry, with old Michael McAlpin, were the freest of
smugglers. In them days the McAlpins wasn't pestered with feelings; they
was good sports. Jerry marrying that full-breed had it taken out of him
somewhat--she was a hifty one. Them Indians never can get off their high
heels--not the full-breeds. But I tell you, Mr. Farwell, and you take it
for truth, when Jerry begins to maudle about repentance, it's just before
a--debauch. I know the signs."

Just then Bounder raised his head and howled.

"None of that! Off with yer!" shouted Mary, making for the dog with
nervous energy. "Once," she went on, her lips twitching, "my man and
Michael McAlpin had a good one on the officers. They had a big load of
the stuff on the cart and were coming down the road back of the Far Hill
Place when they sensed the custom men in the bushes. What do they do but
cut the traces and lick the horses into a run; then they turned the
barrels loose, jumped off, letting them roll down the hill, and they,
themselves, made for safety. It was only a bit more trouble to go back in
a week's time and g