It was the first word he had spoken on our walk home.

"Is it two million five hundred and sixty thousand, or two hundred and
fifty-six thousand persons that are bitten annually by snakes in
India?" cried Tim, suddenly awaking from his moody silence.

"You can go back to-morrow and find out," came from the porch.

"Good-night, Mr. Weston," returned my brother sharply.

Perry Thomas parted from us at the gate, and we stood watching his
retreating figure till we lost it at the bend. Then we went in.

Standing at the foot of the stairs, with a lighted candle in his hand,
Tim turned suddenly to me and said, "I thought you were going to see
Weston."

"I thought you were sitting at home waiting for me to get back," I
retorted.

"Can I help you upstairs?" he said.

"No, I'm going to sit awhile and smoke," I answered jauntily, "and
talk--to Captain."




VII