"Yes--and more than that," he said, partly turning his head away. "You
cannot go on to Tête Jaune alone, Joanne. You must go nowhere alone. If you
do----"

"What will happen?"

"I don't know. Perhaps nothing would happen. But you cannot go alone. I am
going to take you back to Mrs. Otto now. And to-morrow I shall go on to
Tête Jaune with you. It is fortunate that I have a place up there to which
I can take you, and where you will be safe."

As they were preparing to go, Joanne glanced ruefully at the table.

"I am ashamed to leave the dishes in that mess," she said.

He laughed, and tucked her hand under his arm as they went through the
door. When they had passed through the little clearing, and the darkness of
the spruce and balsam walls shut them in, he took her hand.

"It is dark and you may stumble," he apologized. "This isn't much like the
shell plaza in front of the Cape Verde, is it?"

"No. Did you pick up any of the little red bloodshells? I did, and they
made me shiver. There were strange stories associated with them."

He knew that she was staring ahead into the blank wall of gloom as she
spoke, and that it was not thought of the bloodshells, but of Quade, that
made her fingers close more tightly about his own. His right hand was
gripping the butt of his automatic. Every nerve in him was on the alert,