Looking
with heavy-lidded eyes across the prairie, he saw in the distance the
barracks of the Riders of the Plains and the jail near by, and his
shuddering ceased. There was where he belonged, within four stone walls;
yet here he was free to go where he willed, to live as he willed, with no
eye upon him. With no eye upon him? There was no eye, but there was the
Whisperer whom he could never drive away. Morning and night he heard the
words: "You--you--you! Fire and blood and shame!" He had snatched sleep
when he could find it, after long, long hours of tramping over the plains,
ostensibly to shoot wild fowl, but in truth to bring on a great bodily
fatigue--and sleep. His sleep only came then in the first watches of the
night. As the night wore on the Whisperer began again, as the cloud of
weariness lifted a little from him and the senses were released from the
heavy sedative of unnatural exertion.

The dusk deepened. The moon slowly rose. He cooked his scanty meal and
took a deep draught from a horn of whiskey from beneath a board in the
flooring. He had not the courage to face Dupont without it, nor yet to
forget what he must forget if he was to do the work Dupont came to
arrange--he must forget the girl who had saved his life and the influence
of those strange moments in which she had spoken down to him, in the abyss
where he had been lying.

He sat in the doorway, a fire gleaming behind him; he drank in the good
air as though his lungs were thirsty for it, and saw the silver glitter of
the moon upon the water. Not a breath of wind stirred, and the shining
path the moon made upon the reedy lake fascinated his eye. Everything was
so still except that whisper, louder in his ear than it had ever been
before.

Suddenly, upon the silver path upon the lake there shot a silent canoe,
with a figure as silently paddling toward him. He gazed for a moment
dismayed, and then got to his feet with a jerk.

"Dupont," he said, mechanically.

The canoe swished among the reeds and rushes, scraped on the shore, and a
tall, burly figure sprang from it and stood still, looking at the house.

"_Qui reste la_--Lygon?" he asked.

"Dupont," was the nervous, hesitating reply.

Dupont came forward quickly. "_Ah_, _ben_, here we are again--so," he
grunted, cheerily.

Entering the house, they sat before the fire, holding their hands to the
warmth from force of habit, though the night was not cold.

"_Ben_, you will do it to-night--then