rime,--a confession which would tend to degrade
him to the level of this man whom he affected to despise. So, from
day to day, he postponed his questions and, in the meanwhile, watched
Spurling narrowly.

His conduct had been very curious since that morning of his arrival,
when he had announced himself by playing the spy, through the window
of Bachelors' Hall, on the inhabitants of the Point. How long he had
been there, and how much he had heard of what the Man with the Dead
Soul had had to say, kneeling outside in the semi-darkness with his
ear pressed against the pane, Granger had no means of discovering. But
from the first it was clear to him that Spurling and Eyelids were
possessed of a common knowledge, which made them enemies. Perhaps they
had met before near the Forbidden River, and this had been the cause
of Eyelids' delay.

Under ordinary circumstances, the mystery would soon have been swept
aside by the putting of a single interrogation; but men on the Last
Chance River get out of the habit of asking leading questions; in
their parsimony over words, they prefer to watch and to wait the
reading of the minds of their fellows, and the secreting of their own
motives, is almost their only pastime. So Granger watched and waited.

In Spurling, so soon as he had been fed and cared for, he was quick to
discover a change. He had become manlier and braver--more like his old
self. He carried himself with a kind of timid pride, as though he knew
himself to be of a greater value than he was likely to be reckoned at
by others; almost as though he were confident that he was possessed of
a claim to merit which, once stated, could not fail to be recognised.
At the same time, there was a distressful hesitancy in his manner, not
unnatural under the circumstances, of a man not sure of his
acceptability. He seemed forever on the point of declaring himself,
and forever thinking better of his decision--postponing his
declaration to a later time. His bearing was an irritating combination
of false humility and suppressed self-assertion.

Beorn, when he had recovered from his debauch, was as silent,
absorbed, and uncompanionable as ever. He appeared to have retained no
memory of what he had said, and to be quite unconscious of Spurling's
arrival--he had become again in all things the Man with the Dead Soul.

But with Peggy and Eyelids it was different. Half-breeds as they were,
and, by reason of their Indian blood, instinctive disg