shaggy horses as they lay clumsily down to rest, on
the crumpled figure of Gordon's sister's husband.

The potations were suddenly interrupted by a
sharp knocking from without. An expression of
concern instantly banished Sim's content; he gazed
doubtfully at the jug, then, as Gordon made no move,
rose and with marked diffidence proceeded to open
the door. The lantern light fell on the gaunt, bitter
countenance of his wife framed in imponderable
night. Her eyes made liquid gleams in the wavering
radiance which, directed at Gordon, seemed to be
visible points of hatred.

"It's ten o'clock," she said to her husband, "and
if you hain't got enough sense to go to bed I'll put
you."

"I'm coming right along," he assured her pacifically;
"we were just having a drink around."

"Mrs. Berry's asking for her husband," she
added, gazing at that insensate form.

"He must be kind of bad to his stomach," Sim
remarked; "he dropped with nothing 'tall on him."
He bent and picked the other up. Rutherford Berry's
arms hung limply over Sim's grasp, his feet
dragged heavily, in unexpected angles, over the
floor. "Coming, Gord?"

Gordon made no reply. He sat intent upon the
jug before him. Simeon considerately shut the
door. At regular intervals Gordon Makimmon took

[[229]]

p228 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p229w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p230

v?