" "Not in the least," replied Shotbolt, creeping beneath the table; "there's my staff. "Whatever your intelligence may be I will strive to bear it. You will not be taunted if you return and everything that can be done will be done to make you happy. “I will be off,” she declared. Attempts were made upon the door of the Lodge; but it was too strong to be forced. And now YOU’RE on the war-path. Instead, she laughed, laughed with lips and eyes, laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks. . . " Quitting the night-cellar, the trio soon arrived at the riverside. She went about the gory business of disposing of the bodies, cutting them up with a large butcher knife and packing the light dry pieces of their bloodless remains in a double ply garbage bag, pieces that looked like overcooked, ruined meat. Presently repellance grew under the frozen mask of astonishment and dissipated it.
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