CHAPTER XXV Spurlock pushed back his helmet and sat down in the white sand, buckling his knees and folding his arms around them—pondering. I know what I am doing better than you do. Once more he begged; but as Ruth only repeated her sharp command, he spun about and raced toward the jungle. “It’s something that bothers me. Be a sport, and pile it all on me!" He went to bed. "Thanks," he said, holding out a thin white hand. Joyous, she felt the need of physical expression; and her body began to sway sinuously, to glide and turn and twist about the room. I hate what I have to do to survive. "Why, what the devil would you have had me do!—make myself scarce, eh? You should have tipped me the wink.
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