"Backham's behaved badly towards me; he's not to be trusted. I shouldn't advise you to have much to do with him."
"He'll not get round me. I've had a long talk with him. He tells me you put him into Bigs's place; it was good of you to help him."
"And he's repaid me by the basest ingratitude, but it's generally the way if you help a man."
"It's not my way," said Glen.
"You'll stop the night?" asked Bellshaw.
"Yes, if you'll put me up."
"There's heaps of room. You're welcome to some of it," answered Bellshaw ungraciously.
After dinner they talked about the horses, and Bellshaw agreed to let him have a dozen for a hundred pounds, which was quite as much, or more, than they were worth, but Glen had no desire to haggle over the affair.
He slept in a room near Bellshaw's. In the wooden homestead sounds carried far.
About the middle of the night Glen was roused by hearing someone walking on the verandah, pacing to and fro. The footsteps sounded stealthy and peculiar. He could not make it out; his curiosity was aroused. He got off the bed quietly, he was only partially undressed, and went to the door, which opened on to the verandah. It was not locked. He turned the handle, opened it cautiously, and looked out. There was a faint light, and at the end of the verandah he saw Craig Bellshaw coming towards him; he was, like himself, only partially dressed. He did not wish Bellshaw to think he was spying on him so he almost closed the door and listened.