cook; good manager. I held off while she played
up to old Sniff, women _are_ curious! But now that woman ought to be
utilized legitimate-like. She's running to waste and throwing away her
talents on that young Rivers as is giving this here Point the creeps.
Peneluna and me together could find things out!"

Northrup, hurrying on, believed there was no better way to drive off
the blue devils that were torturing him than to pass the evening with
Twombley.

Just then he heard quick, light footsteps coming toward him. He hid
behind some bushes by the path and waited.

The oncomer was Larry Rivers on his way from the Point. His hat was
pulled down over his face and his hands were plunged in his pockets. A
lighted cigar in his mouth illumined his features--Larry rarely needed
his hands to manipulate his cigar; a shift seemed to be all that was
essential, until the ashes fell and the cigar was almost finished.

Larry walked on, and when he was beyond sound Northrup proceeded on
his way.

The Point seemed wrapped in decent slumber. A light frankly burned in
Twombley's hovel, but for the rest, darkness!

Oddly enough, Northrup passed Twombley's place without halting, and
presently found himself nearing Rivers's. This did not surprise him.
He had quite forgotten his plan.

It was seeing Larry that had suggested this new move, probably; at any
rate, Northrup was curiously interested in the fact that Larry was
headed away from the Point and toward the yellow house.

The loose rubbish and garbage presently got into Northrup's
consciousness and made him think, as they always did, of Maclin's
determination to get possession of the ugly place.

"It is the very devil!" he muttered, almost tumbling over a smelly
pile. "What's that?" He crouched in the darkness. His eyes were so
accustomed to the gloom now that he saw quite distinctly the door of
Peneluna's shack open, close softly, and someone tiptoeing toward
Rivers's shanty. Keeping at a distance, Northrup followed and when he
was about twenty feet behind the other prowler, he saw that it was
Jan-an and that she was cautiously going from window to window of
Larry's empty house, peeping, listening, and then finally muttering
and whimpering.

"Well, what in thunder!" Northrup decided to investigate but keep
silent as long as he could.

A baby in the distance broke into a cry; a man's rough voice stilled
it with a threat and then all was quiet once more.

The next thing tha