Toward noon, on Sunday, they slid in between the breakwaters, and beat across the harbor to the wharf. Badeau kept a close watch on Bruce, confining him to the schooner all day. At dusk, dressed in his best, which included a rhinestone stud, Bruce started out. Hunch had supervised every detail of the toilet, and had forced on Bruce his own red tie, which he preferred to Bruce's checked one. Now he walked sternly alongside. Mamie lived in a cottage a short distance from the freight yard. A rod from the gate Bruce rebelled, but Hunch gripped his arm, and marched him up the steps. Then he left him and stood outside the fence. Bruce laid his hand on the bell-knob, but before ringing looked wildly around and started to tiptoe away. Hunch made a motion, and he turned back and rang. Then the door opened and he disappeared within. Hunch sat on the horse-block. Half an hour later the door opened. Hunch retreated across the street. Bruce and Mamie came out and walked slowly, arm in arm, toward the lake. Hunch stole after, keeping in the shadows. They walked across the beach and sat on the sand. Hunch looked over the ground, and, making sure that they could not get away without his knowledge, he went back up the beach to the end of the sidewalk and paced nervously up and down for an hour. Then he slipped behind the willows and looked again. He saw first a single shadow on the sand, then two people who were lost to all the material and earthly things of this life. They sat in silence, her head pillowed on his shoulder, his arm a black stripe across the back of her pink shirtwaist. Hunch walked swiftly back to the schooner. He was in his bunk, pretending to be asleep, when Bruce came stamping down the steps into the cabin. He watched Bruce as he lighted the lamp. Bruce was grinning. After puttering about the table, he came over to Hunch's bunk and stood looking down at him. Then he laughed out loud and dug his fingers into Hunch's ribs. “Get out of here,” Hunch growled. “Say, Hunch, wake up! It's all right. We're going to be married next month.” “Glad to hear it,” said Hunch, drowsily. Then he rolled over, feeling less enthusiasm than he had expected. Bruce whistled while he was undressing, and played catch with one of his shoes. Hunch could hear him chuckling after he got to bed and the light was out. After that, whenever they touched at a city, Bruce would hurry up to the post-office, and would usually have on his return a perfumed letter, addressed in a slanting hand. He carried these in his pocket and re-read them frequently. His spare time was spent in writing replies with a stubby, chewed pencil. CHAPTER III--THE CALL