FESTING COMMITS THEFT The air was sharp and wonderfully invigorating when Festing stopped for a few moments, one evening, outside Charnock's homestead.

A row of sandhills glimmered faintly against the blue haze in the east, but the western edge of the plain ran in a hard black line beneath a blaze of smoky red.

It was not dark, but the house was shadowy, and Festing noticed a smell of burning as he entered.
The top was off the stove in Charnock's room, and the flame that licked about the hole showed that the floor was strewn with torn paper.
Charnock was busy picking up the pieces, and when he threw a handful into the stove a blaze streamed out and the light shone upon the wall.
Festing noted that the portrait that had hung there had gone, and looking round in search of it, saw a piece of the broken frame lying on the stove.

It was half burned and a thin streak of smoke rose from its glowing end.

Festing remarked this with a sense of anger.
"What are you doing, Bob ?" he asked.
"Cleaning up," Charnock answered, with a hoarse laugh, as he sat down among the litter.