Harrigan strode off through the trees.

To loosen the tight, aching muscles of his throat he began to sing--old Irish songs with a wail and a swing to them.

He had taken no certain direction, for he only wished to be alone and far away from the other two; but after a time he realized that he was on the side of the central hill to which McTee had gone to look for the dry wood.

Above all things in the world he wished to avoid the Scotchman now, and as soon as he became conscious of his whereabouts, he veered sharply to the right.

He had scarcely walked a minute in the new direction before he met McTee.