“No, thank you,” he replied, absently.
“Won’t you rest a bit, sir?”
“No, I must go.”
Profoundly disappointed, she went in, sat down, took hold of the rifle, and then set it aside, as she listened.
“I am not over sure of the way, Joe.” He knew it well enough. “Come with me a bit.”
“Yes, sir.” They went around the cabin and struck off into a forest road. At the brook, which crossed it some fifty yards from the house, Carington turned off the road. He had brought Joe thus far with the indistinct intention of sounding him about the lost tombstone. Suddenly, however, Joe said:
“I wouldn’t go down the trail by the stream, sir.”
“Why not?”
“It’s shorter, but it’s awful muddy.”
“Oh, that doesn’t matter.”