upied, earning nothing,
bereft of his profession, with only the chance in view that his Chaosite
might turn out stable enough to be marketable? How could he dare so
strip himself? Yet, there was no other way; it had to be done; and done
at once--the very first thing in the morning before it became too late.

And at first, in the bitter resentment of the necessity, his impulse was
to turn on Gerald and bind him to good conduct by every pledge the boy
could give. At least there would be compensation. Yet, with the thought
came the clear conviction of its futility. The boy had brushed too close
to dishonour not to recognise it. And if this were not a lifelong lesson
to him, no promises forced from him in his dire need and distress, no
oaths, no pledges could bind him; no blame, no admonition, no scorn, no
contempt, no reproach could help him to see more clearly the pit of
destruction than he could see now.

"You need sleep, Gerald," he said quietly. "Don't worry; I'll see that
your check is not dishonoured; all you have to see to is yourself.
Good-night, my boy."

But Gerald could not speak; and so Selwyn left him and walked slowly
back to his own room, where he seated himself at his desk, grave,
absent-eyed, his unfilled pipe between his teeth.

And he sat there until he had bitten clean through the amber mouthpiece,
so that the brier bowl fell clattering to the floor. By that time it was
full daylight; but Gerald was still asleep. He slept late into the
afternoon; but that evening, when Selwyn and Lansing came in to
persuade him to go with them to Silverside, Gerald was gone.

They waited another day for him; he did not appear. And that night they
left for Silverside without him.

CHAPTER VIII

SILVERSIDE

During that week-end at Silverside Boots behaved like a school-lad run
wild. With Drina's hand in his, half a dozen dogs as advanced guard, and
heavily flanked by the Gerard battalion, he scoured the moorlands from
Surf Point to the Hither Woods; from Wonder Head to Sky Pond.

Ever hopeful of rabbit and fox, Billy urged on his cheerful waddling
pack and the sea wind rang with the crack of his whip and the treble
note of his whistle. Drina, lately inoculated with the virus of
nature-study, carried a green gauze butterfly net, while Boots's pockets
bulged with various lethal bottles and perforated tin boxes for the
reception of caterpillars. The other children, like the puppies of
Billy's pack, ran hap