THE HOTEL-KEEPER The sun was high in the heavens when Weston awakened, ravenous, with an almost intolerable stitch in his side.

He rose with a stagger, and then sat down again, while his face went awry, and took out his pipe.
He had still a very little tobacco left, and he fancied that it might deaden the pangs of hunger.

Then he glanced at Grenfell, who lay fast asleep close by, with his blanket falling away from him.

The man's face was half buried among the withered needles which were thick in his unkempt hair, and he lay huddled together, grotesque and unsightly in ragged disarray.

Weston vacantly noticed the puffiness of his cheeks, and the bagginess beneath his eyes.