face looked pinched and damp.

"What are you doing, Bob?" he asked.

"Trying my strength," said Charnock, who got up. "Three minutes yet to
go, but I think we can take it that I've won."

"I don't understand. Is this a joke?"

"Do I look as if I'm joking?" Charnock rejoined, with a forced smile.
"Anyhow, I'd like you to notice that I'm perfectly sober and this bottle
has not been opened, although I've sat opposite it for nearly half an
hour. I'd have finished the half-hour if you had not come in."

Festing picked up the bottle and read the writing. "Who brought the
thing here?"

"I suspect Wilkinson. He knows a drink would stop the pain."

"Ah," said Festing quietly. "I think I understand! You have made a good
fight, Bob, and I believe you've won. But we'll take precautions; it
will be some satisfaction to throw out the stuff."

He went to the door, but Charnock stopped him.

"Hold on! I mean to keep the satisfaction to myself. Give me the cursed
thing!"

Festing put the bottle in his hand, and opening the door Charnock swung
it round his head and let it go. There was a crash as it struck a tree,
and he went back to his chair.

"That's done with! It's remarkable, but I don't feel as sore as I did.
Perhaps the effort of resisting was a counter-irritant. However, we have
said enough about it. Tell me how you got on with the job that kept you
late."

CHAPTER XXII

FESTING'S NEW PARTNER

Charnock felt better next morning and luck favored him. An accident
to the gravel train disorganized the work, and he and some others were
dismissed for the afternoon. He went to Festing's shack, and making
himself comfortable by the fire, opened a tattered book and enjoyed
several hours of luxurious idleness. After his exertions in the rain and
mud, it was delightful to bask in warmth and comfort and rest his aching
limbs. The next day was Sunday and he lounged about the shack, sometimes
reading and sometimes bantering his comrade. The pain had gone and he
felt cheerful.

When he returned to work on Monday he was sent with a bag of bolts to
the bridge, and presently reached a spot where the heavy rain had washed
away the track. For about a dozen yards the terrace cut in the hillside
had slipped down, leaving a narrow shelf against the bank. The shelf
broke off near the middle, where a gully had opened in the hill. Water
flowed through the gap, and in order to get across one must pick a
way carefully over the steep,