lights of the Gods Lake campfires came into view.

Completely done up, he staggered into his cabin and, closing the door,
fell sprawling upon his bunk, where for an hour he lay while his
overtaxed muscles slowly regained their strength. Then he stood up,
lighted his candle, and proceeded to remove the record of his mad
flight from his scratched skin and torn clothing.

That evening at supper he was surprised to find that Downey had
returned to the post. And he wondered if he only fancied that the
officer eyed him meaningly.

He said nothing of his experience, but thereafter he was content to
remain at the post, never venturing alone beyond the boundaries of the
clearing. He became more and more nervous with the passing of the
days. One by one, he checked them off, and during the latter days of
June he spent hours pacing restlessly up and down, or making the round
of the clearing, shunned by Indian dogs and Indian children, and
ignored by their elders. And always three questions were uppermost in
his mind: Would Orcutt come? Would McNabb come? Would they both come?
And finding no answer, he would continue his restless pacing, or raise
the imaginary stakes in his game of solitaire to stupendous proportions.

He became more and more irritable as the tension increased. The
breaking of a shoe lace called forth a flow of profanity, and when the
mainspring of his watch snapped, he hurled the instrument against the
log wall in his senseless rage.