ry seal to it. The thing was illegitimate, of course.
Shortly after that, young Houston came out here again, and I got her to
come too. I wanted to see what he was up to. He fired me, and while
he was in Denver, and Renaud away from the mill, I got Miss Jierdon and
took her for a walk, while one of the other men kept watch for the cook
who was asleep. But she didn't wake up. On the way back, Miss Jierdon
saw that the mill was burning, and I directed her suspicion toward
Renaud. She accused him, and it brought about a little quarrel between
Miss Jierdon and young Houston. I had forced her, by devious ways, to
pretend that she was in love with him--keeping that perjury thing
hanging over her all the time and constantly harping on how, even
though he was a nice young fellow, he was robbing us both of something
that was rightfully ours. All this time, I had dodged marrying her,
promising that I would do it when the mill was mine. In the meantime,
with the lease and contract in my hands, I had hooked up with this man
here, Blackburn, and he had started a mill for me. I guess Miss
Jierdon had gotten to thinking a little of Houston, after all, because
when I forced her to the final thing of telling some lies about him to
a young woman, she did it, but went away mad at me and threatening
never to see me again. But a little while later, she came back. Our
relations, while she had been at the Houston camp, hadn't been exactly
what they should have been. Miss Jierdon is dead--she had stayed in a
little cabin in the woods. I had lived with her there. About ten days
ago, the baby died, while I was laid up at camp with a sprained hip.
To-day I went there to find her dead, and while I was there, Renaud and
young Houston caught me. This is all I know. I make this statement of
my own free will, without coercion, and I swear it to be the truth, the
whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God.'"

The little lobby milled and buzzed, drowning the scratching of the pen
as a trembling man signed the confession, page by page. Then came the
clink of handcuffs. A moment later two figures had departed in the
dusk,--the sheriff and Fred Thayer, bound for the jail at Montview.
Houston straightened, to find a short, bulky form before him, Henry
Blackburn.

"Well?" questioned that person. "I guess it's up to me. I--I haven't
got much chance against that."

"What do you mean?"

"Simply this," and the bulky Blackburn