lay ahead.
On its edge stood Clinch's.

* * * * *

III

Clinch, in his shirt sleeves, came out on the veranda. He had little
light grey eyes, close-clipped grey hair, and was clean shaven.

"How are you, Clinch," inquired Lannis affably.

"All right," replied Clinch; "you're the same, I hope."

"Trooper Stormont, Mr. Clinch," said Lannis in his genial way.

"Pleased to know you," said Clinch, level-eyed, unstirring.

The troopers dismounted. Both shook hands with Clinch. Then Lannis led
the way to the barn.

"We'll eat well," he remarked to his comrade. "Clinch cooks."

From the care of their horses they went to a pump to wash. One or two
rough looking men slouched out of the house and glanced at them.

"Hallo, Jake," said Lannis cheerily.

Jake Kloon grunted acknowledgment.

Lannis said in Stormont's ear: "Here she comes with towels. She's
pretty, isn't she?"

A young girl in pink gingham advanced toward them across the patch of
grass.

Lannis was very polite and presented Stormont. The girl handed them two
rough towels, glanced at Stormont again after the introductions, smiled
slightly.

"Dinner is ready," she said.

They dried their faces and followed her back to the house.

It was an unpainted building, partly of log. In the dining room half a
dozen men waited silently for food. Lannis saluted all, named his
comrade, and seated himself.

A delicious odour of johnny-cake pervaded the room. Presently Eve
Strayer appeared with the dinner.

There was dew on her pale forehead -- the heat of the kitchen, no doubt.
The girl's thick, lustrous hair was brownish gold, and so twisted up
that it revealed her ears and a very white neck.

When she brought Stormont his dinner he caught her eyes a moment --
experienced a slight shock of pleasure at their intense blue -- the
gentian-blue of the summer zenith at midday.

Lannis remained affable, even became jocose at moments: "No hootch for
dinner, Mike? How's that, now?"

"The Boot-leg Express is a day late," replied Clinch, with cold humour.

Around the table ran an odd sound -- a company of catamounts feeding
might have made such a noise -- if catamounts ever laugh.

"How's the fur market, Jake?" inquired Lannis, pouring gravy over his
mashed potato.

Kloon quoted prices with an oath.

A mean-visaged young man named Leverett complained of the price of
traps.

"What do you care?" inquired Lannis genially. "The other man pays.
What