pines. He
felt disturbed; something in Driscoll's voice and look had jarred his
nerves, and it cost him an effort not to waken Father Lucien. It was not
time yet and the priest needed sleep. Driscoll lay quiet with his eyes
shut, but presently moved and began to mutter. Thirlwell, leaning
forward, caught the words: "I never had the thing; he took it with him."

The strained voice broke, Driscoll drew a hard breath, and feebly turned
his face from the light. After this Thirlwell, whose curiosity was
excited, had less trouble to keep awake, and at length roused Father
Lucien, as he had been told. It was nearly three o'clock in the morning,
the fire had sunk, and the shack was very cold. The wind had fallen and
the bush was silent; one could hear the loose snow dropping from the
boughs.

Father Lucien crossed the floor and after standing for a time beside the
bunk came back and sat down by the stove.

"You can put in fresh wood; it won't disturb him now," he said. "He's
sleeping well. I think the danger's over."

The cord wood snapped and crackled, the front of the stove got red, and
sitting in a corner out of the draughts, they began to talk in low
voices.

"Driscoll was delirious; he talked strangely," Thirlwell remarked. "Is a
sick man's raving all such stuff as dreams?"

"Ah," said Father Lucien, "we know little yet about the working of the
disordered brain, but the imagination sometimes centers on and distorts
things that have happened. Did you get a hint of intelligence in what
Driscoll said?"

"I did. He said he _never had the thing_. Somebody--Strange,
perhaps--_took it with him_."

"Why do you think he meant Strange?"

"Because his mind was obviously dwelling on the night Strange's canoe
capsized. He said it was an accident--he could not stop her swinging
across the stream--as if he were answering somebody who accused him. The
disturbing thing was that although delirious he looked horribly afraid."

Father Lucien was silent and Thirlwell went on: "You have been with him
for three nights. Has he talked like this before?"

"Yes," said Father Lucien, quietly. "You can be trusted. I think he is
afraid."

"Ah!" said Thirlwell, looking hard at him. "Then I wonder why the canoe
capsized. Were they drunk, or was there a quarrel? But perhaps you know
and cannot tell!"

"I do not know. Driscoll is not of my flock. He is ill and it is my
business to cure his sickness, but I can go no farther. If he has othe