ting its meaning, a definite change from
the man he had so cordially greeted earlier in the day; a recognition
which made his blundering now, more hopelessly than ever, an
expression of his utter lack of discretion.

"Say, Charlie, boy," he cried, as he entered the little room, filling
it almost to overflowing with his robust personality, "I've chased
half over the valley looking for you. Then I saw you at the old pine
and shouted, and you sort of faded away. I thought I'd 'got' 'em. What
with that, and then falling into the river, and one or two minor, but
more or less unpleasant accidents, I've had one awful time. Say, this
valley's got me beat to death."

The simplicity of the man was monumental. No one else could have
looked upon that slight figure, huddled down in the big old rocker,
without having experienced a feeling of restraint; no one could have
observed the drawn, frowning brows, and the hard lines about the still
somewhat sensual mouth, without using an added caution in approaching
him. There were fires stirring behind Charlie's dark eyes which were
certainly ominous.

Now, as he listened to his brother's greeting, swift anger leaped into
them. His words came sharply, and almost without restraint. Big
Brother Bill was confronted by another side of his nature, a side of
which he had no knowledge whatever.

"You always were a damned fool," Charlie cried, starting heatedly
forward in his chair. "I told you I was going out. If you had any sort
of horse sense you'd have understood I wasn't in need of a wet-nurse.
What the devil do you want smelling out my trail as if you were one of
the police?" Then he suddenly broke into an unpleasant laugh. "You
came here in Fyles's company. Maybe you caught the police infection
from him."

Bill stared in wide-eyed astonishment at the harsh injustice of the
attack. For one second his blood ran hot, and a wild desire to
retaliate leaped. But the moment passed. Though he was not fully aware
of Charlie's condition, something of it now forced itself upon him,
and his big-hearted regret saved him from his more rampant feelings.

He sat himself on the edge of the table.

"Easy, Charlie," he said quietly, "you're kind of talking recklessly.
I'm no wet-nurse to anybody. Certainly it's not my wish to interfere
with you. I'm--sorry if I've hurt you. I just looked around to tell
you my adventures, I'm no--spy."

Charlie rose from his seat. He stood swaying slightly. The sight