expectation—of almost painful interest. A suspicion flashed upon George; a suspicion and a fear.

[97]

“It’s a great deal like a test—a signal by which one person makes himself sure of another,” he told himself.

Instantly he was all attention. Bending his head courteously, he replied:

“I have heard the rumor myself, and think that it is true.”

This answer did not repel the other; but at the same time it did not satisfy him, either. He arose and leaning against the brick mantle began slapping at his boot leg with a riding whip.

“Which way are you traveling?” he asked.

“North,” returned George.

The face of the other grew brighter. He endeavored to assume a light manner, and laughed a little as he said:

“Perhaps you think that there will be[98] more to interest you in that direction than in another.”

[98]

“One usually travels in the direction in which one’s interest lies,” replied young Prentiss in the same tone. “And I am like most in that.”

Herbert Camp nodded and pondered. For a few moments he stood alternately glancing at George and then toward the window; the lash of the whip continued to cut at his boot leg and to lay long welts upon the sanded floor.

“You came alone?” asked he, finally.

“Yes,” answered George.

“Isn’t it somewhat dangerous to take the north road unaccompanied?”

Young Prentiss smiled. “You did not seem to think so,” said he.

“With me it is different,” spoke the lieutenant with a meaning in his voice that George did not grasp. “But for strangers the way is unprotected. Did you meet no one upon the road?”

“No one.”

“That is strange. Though, as I said, it’s a lonely way, still one is apt to meet a peddler now and then.”

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