He felt scarcely capable of further exertion, but he could not overcome the horrible bodily craving that seemed to grow stronger with every pulsation of his fevered blood, and he plodded on into the thicket very wearily.

At length Devine saw the twig bend downward for a moment in his hands, "You did that ?" he asked sharply.
"No," said Weston in a strained voice, "I certainly did not." "Let me take hold," said Devine, and when Weston handed the fork to him he walked back a few paces and crossed the same spot again.

The fork, however, pointed straight in front of him.

He threw it down and said nothing, but Weston looked at him with a little grim smile.
"I've heard it said that anybody could do it, but that's not my experience," he observed.
Devine's gesture might have expressed anything.
"Oh, we were both crazy when we started with Grenfell," he said.
Weston moved forward with the fork, and, while Devine looked on, the stem once more inclined.

It wavered, tilted downward a little farther, and then slowly swung back to rest again.