Robert Stead and Dr. Russell, clad for hunting, tram-ped down a pent road through the woodland and halted at the bars that separated it from the highway.Like careful woodsmen, they made sure that their guns were at half-cock before resting them against the tumble-down wall; pulling out pipe and tobacco pouch, they filled and fingered the smooth bowls with the deli-beration that is akin to restfulness. Then, face to windward, they applied the match and drew the few ra-pid puffs that kindle the charmed fire, and leaning on the top rail, looked down the slope to where the river, broad and tranquil as it passed, narrowed and grew more elusi-ve as the eye traced it toward its starting-point in the north country many miles away.