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Granger was aroused from some very uncomfortable imaginings by Spurling, who, touching him on the elbow, exclaimed in surprise, "Why, it isn't me; it's you they're after!" Then, when he received no answer, he asked, "What is it that you have done?" It was Cain accusing Judas with a vengeance. "Done! I've done nothing," Granger exclaimed, pushing him aside; "Robert Pilgrim is mistaken."
Everybody else was in camp when he stepped inside. Lane did not look at him at all. Spurling and Stevens nodded coolly. Percy drew a long breath and launched at once into the brief speech he had spent the last three hours dreading. "Fellows," he stammered, "I've been pretty rotten to all of you. There's no need of wasting any more words about that.
When he awoke, he found that the room was in darkness; it must have been night for several hours. It was the coldness which had aroused him, for the fire had gone out. He supposed that Spurling must be sleeping, so he called to him, "Spurling, Spurling, are you there?" There was no answer. He listened for his breathing, but could hear nothing.
They stowed everything in its place, then headed out of the cove, towing the dory. It was a clear, cool night. A light wind was blowing from the north, but the sea was fairly smooth. "Guess we'll run down to Clay Bank," said Spurling. "It's only six miles to the southward. We ought to get a good set there." Steadily they plowed on.
The bird that owned this foot was taking a message to somebody. Perhaps he was shot; or he may have become tired, lost his way, and fallen into the water, and the hake got him." They looked at the little foot with the white-metal band. "My uncle Tom was fishing once in eighty fathoms off Monhegan," Spurling remarked, "and pulled up an odd-patterned, blue cup of old English ware.
Physically very strong, he had caught on the academy ball team and played guard in football. Mentally he was a trifle slow; but in the whole school there was no squarer, more solid fellow. So far as finances went, he was dependent on his own resources; whatever education he got he must earn himself. Lane afforded in many respects a decided contrast to Spurling.
Spurling's new curate that it is thought that he may be tempted to secure her assistance for ever. So runs the gossip of the village, and in small places such gossip is seldom wrong. As to Hector Spurling, he is still in her Majesty's service, and seems inclined to abide by his father's wise advice, that he should not think of marrying until he was a Commander.
They're a thieving, treacherous lot, smooth to your face, but ready to stab you the minute your back's turned. I'll bet you a five-dollar bill he's got a knife hid somewhere about him. He might take a notion some night to cut all our throats." "Whittington," said Spurling, bluntly, "under the circumstances it might be better taste for you not to speak until you've heard from the rest of us.
He was invaded by a terrible inertia, so that he was half-minded to lie down and go to sleep; but the thought that Spurling had halted somewhere, perhaps only twenty miles ahead, and was losing time, drew him on. Presently his dogs sat down again, lifting their voices above the storm in a dismal wailing. He cut their traces and went forward, dragging the sled himself.
The body, having lain upon the ice, had been well preserved, no feature had been disturbed; but it was not the body of a man who was newly dead, nor was it the face of Spurling.
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