latter told himself that he had never seen a blanker countenance.
In profile it showed a narrow brow, a huge, drooping nose, a pinched
mouth and insignificant chin. From the front the face of the man in
the doorway held the round, unscored cheeks of a fat and sleepy boy.
The eyes were mere long glimmers of vision in thick folds of flesh;
the mouth, upturned at the corners, lent a fixed, mechanical smile to
the whole. It was a countenance on which the passage of time and
thoughts had left no mark; its stolidity had been moved by no feeling.
His body was heavy and sagging. It possessed, Woolfolk recognized, a
considerable unwieldy strength, and was completely covered by a
variously spotted and streaked apron.

"Are you Nicholas?" John Woolfolk demanded.

The other nodded.

"Then, I take it, you are the man who broke my water cask."

"It was full of our water," Nicholas replied in a thick voice.

"That," said Woolfolk, "I am not going to argue with you. I came
ashore to instruct you to let my man and my property alone."

"Then leave our water be."

John Woolfolk's temper, the instinctive arrogance of men living apart
from the necessary submissions of communal life, in positions--however
small--of supreme command, flared through his body.

"I told you," he repeated shortly, "that I would not discuss the
question of the water. I have no intention of justifying myself to
you. Remember--your hands off."

The other said surprisingly: "Don't get me started!" A spasm of
emotion made a faint, passing shade on his sodden countenance; his
voice held almost a note of appeal.

"Whether you 'start' or not is without the slightest significance,"
Woolfolk coldly responded.

"Mind," the man went on, "I spoke first."

A steady twitching commenced in a muscle at the flange of his nose.
Woolfolk was aware of an increasing tension in the other, that gained
a peculiar oppressiveness from the lack of any corresponding outward
expression. His heavy, blunt hand fumbled under the maculate apron;
his chest heaved with a sudden, tempestuous breathing. "Don't start
me," he repeated in a voice so blurred that the words were hardly
recognizable. He swallowed convulsively, his emotion mounting to an
inchoate passion, when suddenly a change was evident. He made a short,
violent effort to regain his self-control, his gaze fastened on a
point behind Woolfolk.

The latter turned and saw Millie Stope approaching, her countenance
haggard with