Smiling as he recalled the memories of his childhood, he went
into the cabin and found its shelter pleasant and the cooling air of
evening grateful. He took off his game bag, laid it on the floor, set his
gun against the wall, and glad of a rest sat down. Having enjoyed his
first smoke of the day, he let his head drop on the floor, and by no
means intending it fell asleep.
Leila too was in a happier mood, and sure of not meeting John set out to
walk through the forest. After a pleasant loitering stroll she stopped at
the cabin door, and as she glanced in saw John Penhallow asleep. She
leaned against the door post and considered the motionless sleeper in the
shadows of the closing day. She was alone with him--alone as never
before. He would neither question nor make answer. Strange thoughts came
into her mind, disturbing, novel. How could he sleep without a pillow? It
must be an army habit after tent-less nights of exhaustion in the deadly
trenches. People--men--had tried to kill this living silent thing before
her; and he too--he too had wanted to kill. She wondered at that as with
the motion of a will-less automaton she drew nearer step by step. Her
feet unwatched struck the half-filled game-bag. She stumbled, caught her
breath, and had a moment of fear as she hung the bag on the wooden hook
upon which as a child she used to hang her sun-bonnet.
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