eyes rolled wildly, flashing; the dilated nostrils quivered.

"Hang it all!" said Hollis at last, "he is a good fellow. I'll give him
something that I shall really miss."

He took the ribbon out of the box, smiled at it scornfully, then with a
pair of scissors cut out a piece from the palm of the glove.

"I shall make him a thing like those Italian peasants wear, you know."

He sewed the coin in the delicate leather, sewed the leather to the
ribbon, tied the ends together. He worked with haste. Karain watched his
fingers all the time.

"Now then," he said--then stepped up to Karain. They looked close
into one another's eyes. Those of Karain stared in a lost glance, but
Hollis's seemed to grow darker and looked out masterful and compelling.
They were in violent contrast together--one motionless and the colour
of bronze, the other dazzling white and lifting his arms, where the
powerful muscles rolled slightly under a skin that gleamed like satin.
Jackson moved near with the air of a man closing up to a chum in a tight
place. I said impressively, pointing to Hollis--

"He is young, but he is wise. Believe him!"

Karain bent his head: Hollis threw lightly over it the dark-blue ribbon
and stepped back.

"Forget, and be at peace!" I cried.