At the head of the cart was placed the coffin. There was no answer. She would not look at him, would not think of him; when her mind wavered, then she muttered to herself in the darkness so as to keep hold of her generalizations. CHAPTER XXII Every morning at dawn it was Spurlock's custom to take a plunge in the lagoon. The wheel and the navigating instruments were sternward, under a spread of heavy canvas, a protection against rain and sun. He had hired not one but two engineers to record the event, subsidized entirely out of his own meager pocket. And now for the fawney— the ring I mean.
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