It was one of those old sliding trap affairs, narrow and steep of descent. " "Rollo!" There were no locks or panelled doors in the bungalow; and Rollo was aware of it. "Like master like man," observed Jack as he rolled the inanimate body to the side of the road. Of all crafts,—and it was the only craft his poor father, who, to do him justice, was one of the best workmen that ever handled a saw or drove a nail, could never understand,—of all crafts, I say, to be an honest man is the master-craft. ” “Think not,” that young man remarked laconically.
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