get it back. He claimed
self-defense, but couldn't prove it."

"Don't make no difference. The jury said he was guilty, didn't it?"

"Suppose he was. We've got to give him a chance when he comes out,
haven't we?"

Some of the men began to weaken. They were not cruel, but they were
children of impulse, easily led by those who had force enough to push
to the front.

"I won't mix cement with no convict," the self-appointed leader announced
flatly. "That goes."

The contractor met him eye to eye. "You don't have to, Reynolds. You can
get your time."

"Meanin' that you keep him on the job and let me go?"

"That's it exactly. Long as he does his work well I'll not ask him to
quit."

A shadow darkened the doorway of the temporary office. The Arizonan
stepped in with his easy, swinging stride, a lithe, straight-backed
Hermes showing strength of character back of every movement.

"I'm leaving to-day, Mr. Shields." His voice carried the quiet power of
reserve force.

"Not because I want you to, Sanders."

"Because I'm not going to stay and make you trouble."

"I don't think it will come to that. I'm talking it over with the boys
now. Your work stands up. I've no criticism."

"I'll not stay now, Mr. Shields. Since they've complained to you I'd
better go."

The ex-convict looked around, the eyes in his sardonic face hard and
bitter. If he could have read the thoughts of the men it would have been
different. Most of them were ashamed of their protest. They would have
liked to have drawn back, but they did not know how to say so. Therefore
they stood awkwardly silent. Afterward, when it was too late, they talked
it over freely enough and blamed each other.

From one job to another Dave drifted. His stubborn pride, due in part to
a native honesty that would not let him live under false pretenses, in
part to a bitterness that had become dogged defiance, kept him out of
good places and forced him to do heavy, unskilled labor that brought the
poorest pay.

Yet he saved money, bought himself good, cheap clothes, and found energy
to attend night school where he studied stationary and mechanical
engineering. He lived wholly within himself, his mental reactions tinged
with morose scorn. He found little comfort either in himself or in the
external world, in spite of the fact that he had determined with all his
stubborn will to get ahead.

The library he patronized a good deal, but he gave no time to general
literature.