Again Barreau had fallen into wordless brooding. For the hour or more that passed after we had eaten he lay on his bed staring at the pole-and-dirt roof. He was still stretched thus, an unlighted cigarette between his lips, when I took off my clothes and laid me down to sleep. And when at daybreak I wakened and sat up sleepily, Barreau’s bedding was neatly smoothed out on the bunk. His smoking material, which had lain on the table, was gone; likewise his rifle, cartridge-belt, and the pack-rigging he had cast aside the evening before. It seemed that Mr. Barreau must have gone a-journeying. I opened the door and looked about me. Here and there men busied themselves at sundry occupations. The sun had but cleared the tree-tops, and on flat and hillsides deep black shadows still nestled. My roving eyes finally settled on one of these blots of shade, and presently I saw four figures, mounted, two of them leading extra horses, ascending the south bank. Looking more closely I observed that one was a woman. Mr. Montell, I decided, was taking time by the forelock. I stood with hands jammed in my trousers pockets, wishing that I, too, were homeward bound, wondering if Bolton had got either of my letters, and if he had made any attempt to trace me—and a lot of other footless speculation. CHAPTER XIII—A FORETASTE OF STRONG MEASURES Thus thrown upon my own resources, I betook myself to the roomy cabin where the cook reigned supreme. Thence, with breakfast disposed of, to the store. I found there a small, bewhiskered man bowed over a ledger, and a dozen husky packers stowing goods on the shelves. The clerical person gazed at me over a pair of steel-rimmed spectacles in a colorless, uninterested sort of way. I took him to be the bookkeeping machine of the concern, and such proved to be the case. And when I asked for “George,” prudently refraining from mention of surnames he told me primly that “Mr. Barreau” had gone up the river, leaving word that I was to make myself at home in the meantime. Having delivered himself of this message, he resumed his task. So I continued my round of the post until I located old Ben Wise. What between chatting with Ben, and sundry games of seven-up with one or two of the others whom I knew, and long spells of sitting alone in the cabin smoking over the fire, I managed to murder time for three days. At the end of which period Barreau returned.