“I’ve noticed you a number of times with your dogs and gun,” said the sick man. “The game is none too plentiful hereabouts, I should say.”
“It depends a good bit on what you’re after,” stated Mr. Scanlon.
“Yes, I suppose that is true.”
The tone of the man in the chair was quieter than usual; his manner, too seemed mild. But the expression of his full-lipped mouth was one of infinite savagery; his eyes shone like those of a caged beast.
“Doctor sent you out here, I suppose,” said Scanlon, as they went on toward the inn.
The invalid gestured with one wasted hand.
“We who have no health,” said he, “are for ever under a doctor’s directions. We can never follow our own desires.”
Bat regarded the speaker attentively.
“Any one,” was his thought, “who could make you do what you didn’t want to do would be a good one.”
But aloud he said: