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"Look at me!" he commanded, but with the definite order was mingled some trace of cajolery. She obeyed, quivering, her cheeks the colour of a tomato. In spite of all preoccupations, she distinctly noticed and not without a curious tremor that his features had taken on a boyish look.

Allowed to stand for a while, when poured off, a thin deposit of slime was found on the bottoms of the vessels. This was the flour, the infinitesimal trace of it scattered through thousands of cubic yards of snow. Also, in this slime occurred at intervals a water-soaked tea-leaf or coffee-ground, and there were in it fragments of earth and litter.

It would take a fine scent to trace the tiny footsteps under the carpet of snow, but such an exploit is not one-tenth as wonderful as that of the trained dogs in Georgia, which will stick to the track of a convict when it has been trampled upon by hundreds of others wearing similar dress and shoes, and will keep to it for miles by running parallel to the trail and at a distance of a hundred feet.

"That would not have induced me to run the risk of coming here. I came because I wanted to find a man who was brave enough to help me. We have no friends in London, and so it became a question of terms. I can repay you by helping you to trace Hassan." "What is it, then, that Dexter asks me to do?" "He asks nothing. I, Carneta, am asking!" "Then you are not come from him?"

"But I believe that this rag is from our people, and you were right in coming hither. Look!" pointing to the entrance of the Bocas, "they came through there and from the west. Even if we find no trace of them I still believe that they went to Hashyuko and that we shall find them there. Let us go ere it is too late!"

I murmured a protest, but he assured me: "They're all behind us. We can make quicker time in the trace. They'll hop on to your trail sure's shootin'. Speed is what we hanker for." His woodcraft was remarkable. He seemed to possess the gift of seeing that which was concealed.

Gordon Dane's was a face before which the eyes of women would fall in half-frightened, half-ecstatic subjection, and men would feel the inexplicable magnetism of his presence. He would be widely remarked for his taste in dress. He would don stripes or checks without a trace of timidity. He would quail before no violence of colour in a cravat. A certain insignificant Bunker Bean was not like this.

By one a horn was blown, and by another figures were made to dance upon an altar. But there is no trace in the ancient world of the application of steam to an important useful purpose.

The best the wife could do was to make him trace his name in sprawling letters that resembled writing and painfully spell his way through the simplest passages in the Bible. The day she gave up was one of dumb despair. She resolved at last to live in her boy. All she had hoped and dreamed of life should be his and he would be hers.

But if we don't strike camp pretty soon, I'll try to pot a jack-rabbit." "We can eat desert mice," said Rhoda. "I know how to catch and cook them!" "Heaven forbid!" ejaculated DeWitt. "Let's start on at once, if you're not too tired." So they began the day cheerfully. As the morning wore on and they found no trace of the camp, they began to watch the canteen carefully.