frame which had drifted down two hundred
miles.
"Ar-re you--going--to desert me@
now?"

Again the anchor held; the noble
anchor: Give Service: it was as if a voice
outside of her numbed self spoke the
words.

The raven rags dropped from between
her fingers,--their reflection from her face.

Steadily enough, she found the little
vial lying amid the top layer in that
pigskin knapsack, shook a few drops from
it, into the thimble-like glass accompanying,
mixed them with water, held them
to his lips.

At the same time she dipped her handkerchief
again and passed it over his forehead.

"Ha! Pity as well as ' pep' in you,
eh? Good!" The sufferer actually
winked one eye as the stimulant trickled
down. "Well! my dear, the little recording
apparatus is in that knapsack
[[269]]

p268 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p269w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p270

v?