She smiled wearily in assent.

"And remember me to your good husband," he added. "I hope he will have
the best of luck."

"They say hunting is a worse habit to break than bridge," she returned
with a forced little laugh.

Blakeman followed the doctor to the door. Reverently he handed him
his stick, coat and hat--a moment later the heavy steel grille closed
noiselessly.

Blakeman stood grimly looking out of the front window, his jaw set,
his eyes following the doctor until he disappeared within his coupe
and slammed the door shut.

"Damn him!" he said. "If he tells that child that I'll strangle him!"




CHAPTER FOUR


In a deserted lumber clearing up Big Shanty Brook a chipmunk skitted
along a fallen hemlock in the drizzle of an October rain. Suddenly he
stopped and listened, his heart, thumping against his sleek coat. He
could hear the muffled roar of the torrent below him at the bottom of
the ravine, talking and grumbling to itself, as it emptied its volume