"Say! George,--the way Joe said that, makes me afraid that some day he will kill you."

"Don't you worry your little head about that, Rita," I said.

"Oh!--that's all very well,--but Joe Clark's a big man. He's the strongest man on the coast. He's always in some mix-up and he always comes out on top. And I'm more afraid for you, because you are not afraid of him."

I rowed Rita across home that evening in order to rea.s.sure her, and, on our journey, neither sound nor sign did we experience of Joe Clark.

When the time came again for her next lesson, Rita seemed to have forgotten her former fears.

I had fixed up a blind over the window and had drawn it down, so that no more imaginary peering faces would disturb the harmony of our lesson and our conversation.

How long we sat there by the stove, I could not say; but Rita was soft, and gentle, and tender that night,--sweet, suppliant and loving. She was all woman.

When our lesson was over, she sat at my feet as usual. She crossed her fingers over my knee and rested her cheek there, with a sigh of contentment.

I stroked her hair and pa.s.sed my fingers through the long strands of its black, glossy darkness, and I watched the pretty curves of her red, sensitive lips.

"Rita! Rita!" I questioned in my heart, as her big eyes searched mine, "I wonder, little maid, what this big world has in store for you? G.o.d grant that it be nothing but good."

I bent down and kissed her once,--twice,--on those soft and yielding upturned lips.

With terrifying suddenness, something crashed against my front window and broken gla.s.s clattered on the floor.

A great hand and arm shot through the opening and tore my window blind in strips from its roller. And then the hand and arm were withdrawn.

In the visual illusion caused by the strong light inside and the deep darkness without, we saw nothing but that great hand and arm.

I sprang up and rushed to the door, followed by Rita.

There was no sign of any one about. I ran round the house, and scanned the bushes; I went down on to the beach, then across the bridge over the creek, but I failed to detect the presence of any man.

I came back to Rita to ease her mind, and found her anxious yet wonderfully calm.

"George!--you need not tell me,--it was Joe. I know his hand and arm when I see them. He is up to something.

"Oh! You must be careful. Promise me you will be careful?"

I gave her my word, then I set her in her boat for home, asking her to wait for a moment until I should return.

Before setting her out on her journey, I wished to make perfectly sure that there was no one about. I again crossed the creek, past Mary's house, which was in complete darkness, and down on to her beach.

There, hiding in the shelter of the rocks, was a launch, moored to one of the rings which Jake had set in at convenient places just for the purpose it was now being used.

I ran out and examined it. It was Joe Clark's.

So!--I thought,--he is still on this side.

I returned to Rita, wished her good-night and pushed her out on the water.

I came leisurely up the beach, keeping my eyes well skinned. But, after a bit, I began to laugh, chiding myself for my childish precautions.

I went into the kitchen, took an empty bucket in each hand and set out along the back path for a fresh supply of water for my morning requirements, to the stream, fifty yards in the wood, where I had hollowed out a well and boarded it over.

It was dark, gloomy and ghostly in the woods there, for the moon was stealing fitfully under the clouds and through the tall firs, throwing strange shadows about.

I had almost reached the well, when I heard a crackling of dead wood to my right.

A huge, agile-looking figure pushed its way through, and Joe Clark stood before me, blocking my path.

He held two, roughly cut clubs, one in each hand. His sleeves were rolled up over his tremendous arms; his shirt was open at the neck, displaying, even in the uncertain moonlight, a great, hairy, ma.s.sive chest over which muscles and sinews crawled.

I scanned his face. His jaw was set, his lips were a thin line, his eyes were gleaming savagely and a mane of fair hair was falling in a clump over his brow. He looked dishevelled and was evidently labouring under badly suppressed excitement.

"Where's Rita?" he growled.

I put my buckets aside and took my pipe from between my teeth.

"Half-way home by this time, I hope," I said.

"She is,--eh!" he cut in sarcastically. "Guess so! Look here, Bremner,--what'n the h.e.l.l's your game with Rita, anyway?"

I went straight up to him.

I did not want to quarrel. Not that I was afraid of him, even knowing, as I did, that I would be likely to get much the worse of any possible encounter;--but, for Rita's sake, I preferred peace.

"My good fellow," I said, "why in heaven's name can't you talk sense?

I have no game, as you call it, with Rita.

"If you would only play straight with her, you might get her yourself.

But I'll tell you this,--skulking around other people's property, after the skirts of a woman, never yet brought a man anything but rebuffs."

"Aw!--cut out your d.a.m.ned yapping, Bremner," he yelled furiously. "Who the h.e.l.l wants any of your jaw? Play straight the devil! You're some yellow cuss to talk to anybody about playin' straight."

It was all I could do to keep my temper in check.

"What d'ye bring her over to your place at night for, if you're playin'

straight?" he continued.

"To teach her grammar;--that's all," I exclaimed.

"Grammar be d.a.m.ned," he thundered. "What d'ye put up blinds for if you're playin' straight?"

"To keep skulkers from seeing how respectable people spend their evenings," I shot at him.

"You're a confounded liar," he yelled, beside himself. "I know what you're up to, with your oily tongue and your Jim Dandy style.

"Rita was mine before you ever set your d.a.m.ned dial in Golden Crescent.

She'd 've been mine for keeps by this time, but you got her goin'. Now you're usin' her to pa.s.s the time, keepin' men who want to from marryin' her."