It was Buck's second warning for me to leave. Could he have known my mental condition when I read the ignorant, threatening lines, I believe even he would have hesitated before attempting any radical move to be rid of me. I was not alarmed; I was not even annoyed. I am sure my heart action was not accelerated at all. It may be surmised that I did not comprehend the full significance of the words. But I did. They meant, differently presented: "If you don't get away from here I'm going to kill you." I knew what he meant to say, and I knew what he meant to do. It must have been the consciousness of my bodily power which prevented even the slightest tremor as I labored through the misspelled, scarcely intelligible missive. I looked at it almost disinterestedly a moment after I had mastered it, then crumpled it into a wad and tossed it aside. At various times during the day I thought of it, but only as one's mind naturally reverts to an incident. I did not suppose the smith would ambush me. Apart from assassination, the belief was strong within me that I could hold my own, and more, with him. The third Saturday after the disappearance of the family at Lizard Point, I went to Hebron in the afternoon. A sense of supreme loneliness assailed me that day, and I realized more than I had ever done that mankind is by nature gregarious. In common with other animals, he must have the fellowship of his kind. That Saturday morning the billowing ranges seemed types of eternal loneliness, and the old walks which heretofore had charmed were alive with the echo of dead voices. I suddenly became aware that I wanted to see somebody, to hear a human voice, however rough and untaught. I wanted to look into somebody's eyes, to talk to somebody, to sit down by somebody, cross my legs and smoke. The longing grew, until, at noon, I knew that I must see some of my fellow creatures. Should I go to the priest? He was kind, cultured, hospitable. No; I didn't want kindness and culture. I just wanted to rub shoulders with mere _humans_. Besides, I would have been more or less constrained with Father John. It was not in the nature of a mere man to forget that Beryl Drane was at the bottom of all this miserable condition of things, and had I gone to chat with his reverence, I should have had to listen to fulsome praises of that--person, and should also have been expected to add my little word of appreciation and compliment, since I had had the rare pleasure of a brief acquaintance with the paragon. I went to Hebron, with a fine large twist of tobacco in my pocket, and an aching desire just to be with people.