Well, if he was still looking for men Don was not yet caught, nevertheless, Pen's heart sickened at the sight. It was clear enough what was happening. During the last few days popular interest in the chase had fallen off, but the news of the finding of the canoe had revived it. The blood lust was aroused again. When she got down to the kitchen Pen learned from the excited negroes that Riever had increased the reward to ten thousand dollars. That was what had brought the crowd.
Like a woman who had died and whose body was condemned to drag on, Pen started things going in the kitchen and set the table for breakfast. When her father came into the dining-room even he who noticed so little, was struck by the contrast of her present look with the laughing mænad who had thrust him into his room the night before.
"What's the matter?" he asked sharply.
Pen shrugged. She had to make some excuse. "Last night was too much for me," she muttered.
"I thought so!" he said severely. "I told you you were acting wildly ... Riever had nothing to do with that affair," he added irrelevantly.
"What difference does it make?"
Pendleton had already been out of doors, and he could talk about nothing but the latest developments of the case. In his new interest, his resentment against Delehanty had cooled. Pen could not gather from his talk what they were saying about her. No doubt they spared his feelings—or mocked him without his being aware of it. With the curious blindness that was characteristic of him, he had not yet connected the finding of the canoe with his daughter.
"How strange that Counsell should have come back here after having paddled away!" he said. "And yet, how natural! It was the last thing anyone would suppose that he would do!"
Pen let him run on, half attending.
Worse was in store for her. Her father said: