. If he went to the
Gulch, no one would know or could suspect the true situation, every one
would be unprepared for that moment when Bignold and he would face each
other--and all that would happen then.

Where was Marcile? Only Bignold knew. Alive or dead? Only Bignold knew.

"_Bien_, I will do it, m'sieu'," he said to the Governor. "I am to go
alone--eh?"

The Sheriff shook his head. "No; two warders will go with you--and
myself."

A strange look passed over Grassette's face. He seemed to hesitate for a
moment, then he said again: "_Bon_, I will go."

"Then there is, of course, the doctor," said the Sheriff.

"_Bon_!" said Grassette. "What time is it?"

"Twelve o'clock," answered the Sheriff, and made a motion to the warder to
open the door of the cell.

"By sundown!" Grassette said, and he turned with a determined gesture to
leave the cell.

At the gate of the prison a fresh, sweet air caught his face.
Involuntarily he drew in a great draught of it, and his eyes seemed to
gaze out, almost wonderingly, over the grass and the trees to the
boundless horizon. Then he became aware of the shouts of the crowd--shouts
of welcome. This same crowd had greeted him with shouts of execration when
he had left the court-house after his sentence. He stood still for a
moment and looked at them, as it were only half comprehending that they
were cheering him now, and that voices were saying, "Bravo, Grassette!
Save him, and we'll save you."

Cheer upon cheer, but he took no notice. He walked like one in a dream--a
long, strong step. He turned neither to left nor right, not even when the
friendly voice of one who had worked with him bade him "Cheer up and do
the trick." He was busy working out a problem which no one but himself
could solve. He was only half conscious of his surroundings; he was moving
in a kind of detached world of his own, where the warders and the Sheriff
and those who followed were almost abstract and unreal figures. He was
living with a past which had been everlastingly distant, and had now
become a vivid and buffeting present. He returned no answers to the
questions addressed to him, and would not talk, save when for a little
while they dismounted from their horses and sat under the shade of a great
ash-tree for a few moments and snatched a mouthful of luncheon. Then he
spoke a little and asked some questions, but lapsed into a moody silence
afterward. His life and nature were being passed through a fier