baby-face with pity. "Can't you waive the law for once, Gillington?"
"Guess not. It wouldn't do to create a precedent. I'm sorry, too. I reckon those five dollars mean as much to her as two or three hundred to you or me."
Leaf-of-the-woods raised her eyes to Tempest. She did not understand what these big-voiced men were saying; but she read that heart-note in Tempest's tone which is common to all languages. Dick saw Tempest's grave face flush and soften.
"Can't you manage it some way, Gillington?" he asked.
"As an officer of the law, I can't. But there's nothing to prevent your giving her the five dollars if you feel like it."
Gillington laughed at his own joke. But Tempest's eyes lighted to a gleam of the mischievous laughter of earlier days.
"Nothing to prevent my adopting that kid and insuring his yearly payment out of my own pocket, I suppose?" he asked.
"Nothing but the state of your own pocket," agreed Gillington.
"I fancy I can stand that. Will you explain to Francois that I want the girl to know that I'm going to be responsible for those five dollars in future, and that I'm going to give the child my name so that I can keep track of him."
"You always were quixotic," remarked Sherwood, looking at him curiously.
"Likely enough," cried Tempest dryly, and raised his voice, calling to a little burly priest who was passing from the Roman Catholic Mission.
The priest halted, and Tempest went to him, and then the two came back together. A gaping young breed was sent to the lake for a dipper of water, and before the rough box with its thumbed account-books Dick saw enacted a queer little ceremony which left him undecided to the end of his life concerning its comedy or tragedy.
Gillington's jolly face was composed into an unusual solemnity, and Otway leaned against the tent-opening with his brows knit and in his eyes a haunting look of memory.
