CHAPTER X.OF SHATTERED ILLUSIONS.
The next morning he sat a long time in the genial sunlight watching carpenters finish a scaffolding beside the pool that had once floated logs to a sawmill.

The scaffolding was a stout affair supporting an immense tank that would, evidently for some occult reason important to screen art, hold a great deal of water.

The sawmill was gone; at one end of the pool rode a small sail-boat with one mast, its canvas flapping idly in a gentle breeze.

Its deck was littered with rigging upon which two men worked.

They seemed to be getting things shipshape for a cruise.
When he had tired of this he started off toward the High Gear Dance Hall.