The boy was huddled in a disconsolate
heap near him. Aldous called softly, and Stevens slowly rose and stretched
himself. The packer advanced to where he had screened himself behind a
clump of bush. His first look at the other assured him that he was right in
using caution. The moon had risen, and the light of it fell in the packer's
face. It was a dead, stonelike gray. His cheeks seemed thinner than when
Aldous had seen him a few hours before and there was despair in the droop
of his shoulders. His eyes were what startled Aldous. They were like coals
of fire, and shifted swiftly from point to point in the bush. For a moment
they stood silent.
"Sit down," Stevens said then. "Get out of the moonlight. I've got
something to tell you."
They crouched behind the bush.
"You know what happened," Stevens said, in a low voice. "I lost my outfit."
"Yes, I saw what happened, Stevens."
The packer hesitated for a moment. One of his big hands reached out and
gripped John Aldous by the arm.
"Let me ask you something before I go on," he whispered. "You won't take
offence--because it's necessary. She looked like an angel to me when I saw
her up at the train.
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