The surf at the foot of the bluff grumbled and chuckled wickedly, as if it knew all of poor humanity's secrets and found a cynic's enjoyment in the knowledge.
CHAPTER IV
THE COMING OF JOB
The next morning Seth was gloomy and uncommunicative. At the breakfast table, when Brown glanced up from his plate, he several times caught the lightkeeper looking intently at him with the distrustful, half-suspicious gaze of the night before. Though quite aware of this scrutiny, he made no comment upon it until the meal was nearly over; then he observed suddenly:
“It's all right; you needn't.”
“Needn't what?” demanded Atkins, in astonishment.
“Look at me as if you expected me to explode at any minute. I sha'n't. I'm not loaded.”
Seth colored, under his coat of sunburn, and seemed embarrassed.
“I don't know what you're talkin' about,” he stammered. “Have the moskeeters affected YOUR brains?”