as if noticing him for the first
time.

"How-de?" he said. Finally his gaze shifted to Nella-Rose and seemed to
burn into her soul.

"Goin', p'r'aps, or--comin'?" he questioned.

"I--I am--going!" Fright and dismay marked the girl's voice. Truedale
went toward her. The covert brutality in White's words shocked and
angered him. He gave no thought to the cause, but he resented the
insult.

"Wait!" he commanded, for Nella-Rose was gone through the open door.
"Wait!"

Seeing that she had for the moment escaped him, Truedale turned to White
and confronted him with clear, angry eyes.

"What have you got to say for yourself?" he demanded fiercely.

The shock had been tremendous for Jim. Three weeks previously he had
left his charge safe and alone; he had come back and found--But shock
always stiffened Jim White; that was one reason for his success in life.
He was never so inflexible and deadly self-possessed as he was when he
could not see the next step ahead.

"Gawd, but I'm tired!" he said, when he had stared at Truedale as long
as he cared to, "I'm going over to my place to turn in. Seems like I'll
sleep for a month once I get started."

"You don't go, White, until you explain what you meant by--"

But Truedale mistook his man. Jim, having drawn his own conclusion,
laughed and strode toward the door.

"I go when I'm damned pleased ter go!" he flung out derisively, "and I
come the same way, young feller. There's mail for yo' in the sack and--a
telegram." White paused by the door a moment while Truedale picked the
yellow envelope from the bag and tore it open.

"Your uncle died suddenly on the 16th. Come at once. Vitally
important. McPHERSON."

For a moment both men forgot the thing that had driven them wide apart.

"Bad news?" asked the sheriff.

Something was happening to Truedale--he felt as if the effect of some
narcotic were losing its power; the fevered unreality was giving place
to sensation but the brain was recording it dully.

"What date is this?" he asked, dazed.

"Twenty-fifth," Jim replied as he moved out of the door.

"When can I get a train from the station?"

"There's one as leaves anywhere 'twixt nine and ten ter-night."

"That gives me time to pack. See here, White, while it isn't any of your
business, I want to explain a thing or two--before I go. I'll be back as
soon as I can--in a week or ten days at furthest. When I return I intend
to stay on, probably for the rest of