His gaitered legs struck off across the lawn and Filmer's glance followed the powerful figure as it halted at the fence beside two Indians who waited irresolutely while their dark eyes explored the animated scene. The bishop, seemingly forgetful of all else, entered into an earnest conversation, during which a copper colored palm was held out to him, and in the palm the group could see something small and round that gleamed softly in the late afternoon sun. At that the bishop shook his head gravely and the palm was withdrawn, when there followed more talk in lowered tones, after which he vaulted the fence and came slowly back, his lips compressed and a quizzical smile on his big handsome face. He shot a look at the group but said nothing. "What is it, sir?" asked Dibbott. "Something that touches our conversation, curiously enough. Those two Indians have just paddled up from the settlement to ask me to bless a silver bullet, and they are parishioners of mine too." "Why?" put in Manson abruptly. "They say the bullet is to kill a wolf who is haunting the neighborhood and is possessed by a spirit of a bad man who died there only recently. He apparently has an insatiable appetite for Indian children, though no damage has been done as yet. It must have been a Unitarian spirit since he is evidently a one idea wolf," he pursued with a provocative grimace at the stolid Manson who was of that persuasion. The others roared, but Manson, without a smile, held his ground. "Why a bullet that has been blessed?" "They assure me it is the only kind that can kill an animal inhabited by a spirit." The bishop's hand stole up to his jaw, in a favorite gesture. "Our conversation suggested the matter of Mr. Clark." Filmer and the rest racked their brains in vain, then pleaded for light.