n come out of his
dugout, making his slow way to supper at Joe's. Sothern's eyes, as
keen as knife blades, studied the dark face, probing deep for a
knowledge of the man himself. It was as though he were making his
first move in the game from ambush, as though he felt that the most
important thing in the world just now were a thorough understanding of
the man with whom he must deal. He had had Marquette's estimate and
Joe's . . . now he sought to form his own. . . .

There was a hard smile upon Sothern's face as Drennen passed on, a
smile not without a strange sort of satisfaction, flashing a quick
light into the eyes.

"By God, I like him!" he burst out softly. "So you're David Drennen,
are you? Well, my boy, the hounds of hell are after you . . . that's
in your face. But it's in your face, too, that you can stand on your
own feet. Hm. In this game I'm going to keep an eye on Madden and
Hasbrook, and both eyes on you."

But, despite the dynamic possibilities of action and strife and history
making, the days went by without event. Drennen came his three times
daily to Joe's for his meals, spent the major part of his time in his
dugout or taking short, lonely walks up and down the river, coaxing
back his strength. He saw much of Lemarc and Sefton upon the street,
noting that they, like himself, had stayed behind, letting the other
fools go on their fools' errands, sensing that their craft bade them
linger to watch him. He saw Ygerne several rimes, always from a
distance, and made no attempt to speak with her. He saw Madden, Ben
Hasbrook and Marshall Sothern, grew accustomed to the knowledge that
they were playing their waiting game, not unlike Sefton and Marc
Lemarc, and gave them little attention. They didn't interest him; when
he was ready he would deal with them and until that time came need not
waste his thoughts upon them.

But all of the stubborn will of a David Drennen could not keep his mind
away from Ygerne Bellaire though he held his feet back from taking him
to her, though he drove his eyes away from her. He had let down the
bars once for her to come into his life as he had let them down for no
man or other woman in years. He had yielded to a mood, thinking that
it was only a mood and that so far as he was concerned she would cease
to exist when he willed it. He found himself, however, seeking to
explain her presence here, companioned by such men as Marc Lemarc and
Captain Sefton; he sough