developed muscles showing plainly through the thin cotton garments
that clung to their sweat-drenched bodies, while they toiled up
the steep roads. And today the sight of the men's straining limbs
and heaving chests moved him more than usual. He used a rickshaw
of necessity, and had never overcome his distaste for them.

Emerging from a grove of pines they neared the little gateway and
as the men flung themselves backward with a deep grunt at the
physical exertion of stopping, Craven leaped out and dashed up the
path, panic-driven. He took the verandah steps in two strides and
then stopped abruptly, his face whitening under the deep tan.

Yoshio stood in the doorway of the outer room, his arms
outstretched, barring the entrance. His face had gone the grey
leaden hue of the frightened Oriental and his eyes held a curious
look of pity. His attitude put the crowning touch to Craven's
anxiety. He went a step forward.

"Stand aside," he said hoarsely.

But Yoshio did not move.

"Master not going in," he said softly.

Craven jerked his head.

"Stand aside," he repeated monotonously.

For a moment longer the Jap stood obstinately, then his eyes fell
under Craven's stare and he moved reluctantly, with a gesture of