Denton burst upon them.

Whether the rage Tim showed was all real or not; whether his accusations
of bad faith came from so deeply wounded a spirit as he would have them
believe, he was not likely to tell; but he claimed the prisoner as his
own, and declined to say what he meant to do. When, however, they saw the
abject terror of the Faith Healer as he begged not to be left alone with
Tim--for they had not meant death, and Ingles thought he read death in
Tim's ferocious eyes--they laughed cynically, and left it to Tim to uphold
the honor of Jansen and the Pioneers.

As they disappeared, the last thing they saw was Tim with his back to
them, his hands on his hips, and a knife clasped in his fingers.

"He'll lift his scalp and make a monk of him," chuckled the oldest and
hardest of them.

"Dat Tim will cut his heart out, I t'ink--_bagosh_!" said Nicolle Terasse,
and took a drink of white whiskey.

For a long time Tim stood looking at the other, until no sound came from
the woods whither the Pioneers had gone. Then at last, slowly and with no
roughness, as the terror-stricken impostor shrank and withered, he cut the
cords.

"Dress yourself," he said, shortly, and sat down beside the stream, and
washed his face and hands as though to cleanse them from contamination. He
appeared to take no notice of the other, though his ears keenly noted
every movement.

The impostor dressed nervously, yet slowly; he scarce comprehended
anything, except that he was not in immediate danger. When he had
finished, he stood looking at Tim, who was still seated on a log plunged
in meditation.

It seemed hours before Tim turned round, and now his face was quiet, if
set and determined. He walked slowly over, and stood looking at his victim
for some time without speaking. The other's eyes dropped, and a grayness
stole over his features. This steely calm was even more frightening than
the ferocity which had previously been in his captor's face. At length the
tense silence was broken:

"Wasn't the old game good enough? Was it played out? Why did you take to
this? Why did you do it, Scranton?"

The voice quavered a little in reply: "I don't know. Something sort of
pushed me into it."

"How did you come to start it?"

There was a long silence, then the husky reply came:

"I got a sickener last time--"

"Yes, I remember, at Waywing."

"I got into the desert, and had hard times--awful for a while. I hadn't
enough to eat, and I didn't