e Jess a superior look. "Got any
news?"

"Nope; an' I've come to say I'm ready to give up! My hound says thar
ain't a smell of 'im 'tween heah an' hell."

"Then your hound lies; for I tell you he's around somewhere, an' not so
very far off, either!"

"Look-ee-heah," the sheriff raised half up in his chair, "I don't 'llow
no man to call my hound a liar!"

"Oh, sit down, Jess! Didn't I just tell you I _know_ he's around
somewhere?"

"Then what kind of a dawg might _you_ be, Mister Dawson?"

But Dale either did not hear, or did not want to take this up. All he
said was:

"Let's keep on trying, Jess!"

"Oh, all right, if yoh're so dod-gasted suah! Go on, then, an' watch
tonight, an' I'll relieve you, same as usual, jest 'foh day!"

There was nothing more to be said, so the mountaineer turned back to the
table, thus curtly dismissing the sheriff whose face flushed as he got
up and went out.

CHAPTER XXXVI

A TIN CYLINDER

The week dragged through to a lifeless close, and the anxiety of those
nearest Dale perceptibly increased. Unquestionably he was getting
thinner, his eyes were deeper and more haunted. In vain did they urge
him to rest but he turned a deaf ear to all entreaty.

The doctor had been expected since noon of the previous day, and every
sound on the pike brought the old gentleman to his feet, peering
hopefully through the trees. Each hour, from twelve on, had made him
more restive. Throughout luncheon and dinner his gaze would repeatedly
wander across the terrace to a strip of lane in view from the
dining-room window; and he sat up late that night, still listening. So
he had slept late this Sunday morning.

But Brent, aroused by an undercurrent of some strange excitement,
awakened with the birds. He went softly down the hall for his tub and
dressed with more than his usual care; all the while wanting to whistle,
but desisting through deference to the sleeping household.

As he stepped out into the fresh early morning one might have remarked a
noticeable change in him since the night he crossed twice to Bradford's
cottage. His eyes were clearer, the flesh upon his cheeks was firm and
bronzed. He was a few pounds lighter, and this gave his face a
clean-cut, chiselled look. His step was buoyant, and one instinctively
knew that beneath the well-fitting clothes played a network of
splendidly laced muscles. He threw back his head and took a deep, joyous
breath of the cool pure air, then wen