For a moment there was a penetrating glare in his eyes as he looked at Howland.

Jackpine still stood silent and motionless beside the stove.
"He told me that it was an accident," said Thorne at last.
"Funny," was all that Howland said, turning to the Indian as though the matter was of no importance.

"Ah, Jackpine, I'm glad to see the coffee-pot on.

I've got a box of the blackest and mildest Porto Ricans you ever laid eyes on in my kit, Thorne, and we'll open 'em up for a good smoke after supper.

Hello, why have you got boards nailed over that window ?" For the first time Howland noticed that the thin muslin curtain, which he thought had screened a window, concealed, in place of a window, a carefully fitted barricade of plank.