my life."

White still held Truedale by the cold, steely gleam of his eyes which
was driving lucidity home to the dulled brain. By a power as unyielding
as death Jim was destroying the screen Truedale had managed to raise
against the homely codes of life and was leaving his guest naked and
exposed.

The shock of the telegram--the pause it evolved--had given Truedale time
to catch the meaning of White's attitude; now that he realized it, he
knew he must lay certain facts open--he could not wait until his return.

Presently Jim spoke from outside the door.

"I ain't settin' up for no critic. I ain't by nater a weigher or trimmer
and I don't care a durn for what ain't my business. When I _see_ my
business I settle it in my own way!"--there was almost a warning in
this. "I'm dead tired, root and branch. I'm goin' ter take a bite an'
turn in. I may sleep a couple o' days; put off yo' 'splainifyin' 'til
yo' come back ter end yo' days. Take the mare an' leave her by the
trail; she'll come home. Tell old Doc McPherson I was askin' arter him."

By that time Jim had ceased scorching his way to Truedale's soul and was
on the path to his own cabin.

"Looks like yo' had a tussle with the storm," he remarked. "Any livin'
thing killed?"

"No."

"Thank yo'!" Then, as if determined not to share any further confidence,
White strode on.

For a moment Truedale stood and stared after his host in impotent rage.
Was Jim White such a lily of purity that he presumed to take that
attitude? Was the code of the hills that of the Romany gypsies? How dare
any man judge and sentence another without trial?

The effect of the narcotic still worked sluggishly, now that White's
irritating presence was removed. Truedale shrugged his shoulders and
turned to his packing. He was feverishly eager to get to Nella-Rose.
Before nightfall she would be his before the world; in two weeks he
would be back; the future would shame White and bring him to his senses.
Jim had a soft heart; he was just, in his brutal fashion. When he
understood how matters were, he would feel like the fool he was--a fool
willing to cast a man off, unheard! But Truedale blamed himself for the
hesitation that meant so much. The telegram--his fear of making a wrong
step--had caused the grave mistake that could not be righted now.

At two o'clock Truedale started--on Jim's mare! White's cabin had all
the appearance of being barred against intrusion. Truedale did not mean
to tes