“Steve!” he said at length, in a low, uneven voice. “I—I—” He paused, his lips trembling. Then his jaw squared. “I’m a beast, Steve, a perfect beast!” he went on rapidly. “I’ve been a beast from—from the very first. You’re— When I think of what a chum you might have been, and I was fool enough— You’ll never want to—to have anything to do with me again, but I had to tell you—”
“Don’t!” Haddon sat up abruptly. His physical weariness had suddenly left him. All the regret and longing and mental soreness of the afternoon had vanished. “Why can’t we—we just forget all that and—”
He paused. A sudden flash like sunlight swept into Cavvy’s face, wiping away the haggard lines. His eyes met Haddon’s longingly, incredulously.
“You don’t mean you’d ever—”
Steve laughed happily.
“Why not?” he asked.
Cavanaugh made no answer in words, but impulsively his hand went out and caught Steve’s. To the onlooker it seemed as if he were merely helping the other fellow to his feet, but Haddon knew there was a good deal more than that in the action. Cavvy’s grip, and the look in his eyes were both more eloquent than speech. Then Mr. Wendell appeared beside them, his face puzzled and a little stern.
“Feeling all right again?” he asked Haddon. “That’s fine. Well, I guess we’d better get back to camp; there seems to be nothing more doing here.” He turned abruptly to Cavanaugh. “Perhaps you can explain this business,” he said rather curtly. “I can’t seem to make head or tail out of what Hinckley and McBride have to say. How did you come to go in over here when there’s a notice up forbidding it for the present?”
CHAPTER IV
THE MAN IN THE DORY
Cavvy hesitated for an instant, a slow flush creeping up into his face. Then his eyes met Haddon’s and his lips tightened.