Gabriel’s weather-beaten visage reddened. He was not in the habit of being called an “old geezer” and he was not deaf. But the actors, all in the boat, were clamoring to start. They had a train to make--get in ancient servitor, and turn on the current. Miss Pinkney’s helper, with her hat on one side and her face crimson, giggled hysterically, and in a chorus of farewells the boat chugged off. The three men left on the wharf went up the path to the doorway where Shine and Mrs. Cornell had resumed their seats. Shine was struck by their difference of type,--if you went the world over you couldn’t find three more varied specimens. The only one he liked was Bassett, something square and solid about him and a good straight look in his eyes. The kind of chap, Shine thought, you’d ask directions of in the street and who’d give ’em to you no matter what hurry he was in. And he’d a lot of authority--the way he managed this wild-eyed bunch showed that. Shine had noticed, too, a sort of exuberant quality of good will about him--like a light within shining out--and set it down to relief at having got through without any one blowing the lid off. They stopped at the steps and Joe Tracy made his good-bys. He was going camping in the woods with his friend Jimmy Travers, who was to meet him at Bangor to-night. They’d stay there twenty-four hours getting their stuff together, then be off for the northern solitudes--no beaten tracks for them. He left, jauntily swinging his kilted skirts, a whistled tune on his lips. Soon after, Stokes departed, saying he was going to change his clothes. His air was nonchalant, lounging up the steps and crossing the living-room with a lazy padding stride. A door to the right opened into the entrance hall. Here he and his wife occupied a ground-floor room. It was on the garden front of the house opposite the stairway that led to the second story. He listened at the panel before he entered, then softly turned the knob, and, inside, as softly closed the door. Shut in and alone his languid pose fell from him like a cloak. An avid eagerness sharpened his features and directed his hands, pulling open his valise and taking from it a small leather case. Moving back from the window he pushed up his sleeve, took the hypodermic from the case and pressed in the needle. When he had restored the bag to its place, he threw himself on the bed and lay with closed eyes feeling the ineffable comfort, grateful as an influx of life, vitalize and soothe his tortured being. Mrs. Cornell and Shine rose up and followed him. Mrs. Cornell had her packing to get through and wanted Miss Pinkney’s help. Shine was going to see if the pantry would do for a dark room, intending to take some flashlight photographs of the company that evening. He had found in a cabinet all the flashlight requisites and thought it would be an interesting memento of their visit--each of them to have a picture.