“I have it with me.”
Imbrie said this with a meaning grin, and Stonor could not be sure but that the man suspected his design of escaping. There was nothing for it but to submit for the moment. If they attempted to bind him he would put up the best fight he could. If they left him free until dark he might still escape by swimming.
They landed. The breed woman, as a matter of course, prepared to do all the work, while Imbrie sat down with his pipe and his gun. He ordered Stonor to sit near. The policeman obeyed, keeping himself on the qui vive for the first hostile move. Clare, merely to be doing something, put up her own little tent. The breed woman started preparing supper, and then, taking everything out of the dug-out, pulled it up on the stones, and turning it over applied the gum to the little crack that had opened in the bottom.
They supped as usual, Stonor being guarded by the woman while Imbrie ate. Stonor and Clare were kept at a little distance from each other. There was nothing that they cared to say to each other within hearing of their jailors. Soon afterwards Clare went to her tent. Stonor watched her disappear with a gripping pain at his heart, wondering if he would ever see her again. “She might have looked her good-night,” he thought resentfully, even while better sense told him she had refrained from looking at him only because such indications of an understanding always infuriated Imbrie.
The dusk was beginning to gather. Imbrie waited a little while, then said carelessly:
“Tie him up now.”
The woman went to get the piece of line she used for the purpose. Stonor got warily to his feet.
“What do you want to tie me up for?” he said, seeking to gain time. “I’m helpless without weapons. You might let me have one night’s comfortable sleep. I work hard enough for it.”
Imbrie’s suspicions were instantly aroused by this changed attitude of Stonor’s, who had always before indifferently submitted. He raised the gun threateningly. “Shut up!” he said. “Hold your hands behind you.”
The woman was approaching with the line. Stonor moved so as to bring himself in a line between Imbrie and the woman. Out of the tail of his eye he saw Clare at the door of her tent, anxiously watching. He counted on the fact that Imbrie would not shoot while she was looking on without strong provocation. They were all down on the stony beach. Stonor kept edging closer to the water.