his mind hadn't been playing tricks on him. No one but a woman
would have been quite so unreasonable. A man would have completed
the job.

He began to look for her up and down the white strip of sand. And
in looking he saw the gray and silver flash of the hard-working
sandpiper. He chuckled, for he was exceedingly comfortable, and
also exhilaratingly happy to know that the thing was over and he
was not dead. If the sandpiper had been a man, he would have
called him up to shake hands with him. For if it hadn't been for
the bird getting squarely in front of him and giving him away,
there might have been a more horrible end to it all. He shuddered
as he thought of the mighty effort he had made to fire a shot into
the heart of the balsam ambush--and perhaps into the heart of a
woman!

He reached for the pail and drank deeply of the water in it. He
felt no pain. His dizziness was gone. His mind had grown suddenly
clear and alert. The warmth of the water told him almost instantly
that it had been taken from the river some time ago. He observed
the change in sun and shadows. With the instinct of a man trained
to note details, he pulled out his watch. It was almost six
o'clock. More than three hours had passed since the sandpiper had
got in front of his gun. He did not attempt to rise to his feet,
but scanned with slower and more careful scrutiny the edge of the
forest and the river. He had been mystified while cringing for his
life behind the rock, but he was infinitely more so now. Greater
desire he had never had than this which thrilled him in these
present minutes of his readjustment--desire to look upon the woman
again. And then, all at once, there came back to him a mental