He ran back with all his speed to the tent. The hangings at the door were
closed. He tore them aside and rushed in.

"Stella!" he said in a whisper, and then he stopped in amazement. He had
left her on the very extremity of distress. He found her, though to be
sure the stains of her tears were still visible upon her face, busy with
one of the evening preparations natural in a camp-life--quietly,
energetically busy. She looked up once when he raised the hanging over
the door, but she dropped her eyes the next instant to her work.

She was standing by the table with a small rook-rifle in her hands. The
breech was open. She looked down the barrel, holding up the weapon so
that the light might shine into the breech.

"Yes?" she said, and with so much indifference that she did not lift her
eyes from her work. "I thought you had gone."

"I left my pipe behind me," said Thresk.

"There it is, on the table."

"Thank you."

He put it in his pocket. Of the two he was disconcerted and at a loss,
she was entirely at her ease.




CHAPTER IX