to pour forth in destructive torrents. And surely there had been
eruptions in the past with fatal consequences.

Now he waddled toward them with an unsavoury grin.

"What luck?" he called, in a somewhat honied voice.

"We won," replied Boy briefly.

She slipped the halter over the head of the old mare, who, too lazy to
remove herself, began to graze where she stood.

The artist stood above the girl, showing his broken and dirty teeth, his
eyes devouring her.

Silver resented the familiarity of his gaze.

"Mr. Silver, this is Mr. Joses," said the girl.

The difference between the two men amused her: the one clean, keen,
beautifully appointed, like a horse got up for a show, the other shaggy
and sloppy as a farmyard beast.

"Very pleased to make your acquaintance, sir, I'm sure," grinned the
artist, bowing elaborately.

The other responded coldly.

Joses had not made a favourable impression on the young man. Boy saw
that at once; and it was not difficult to see. For Silver showed his