eak to you. Got a business
proposition to make."

Still Jim was dumb.

Mosher came close to him and shouted into his ear. The two men were very
calm.

"Say, your wife's in town. Been there for the last year. Didn't you
know it?"

Jim shook his head. He was particularly interested in his work just
then. There was a great saddle of clay, and he scooped it up magically.

"Yes, she's in town--living respectable."

Jim redirected his giant with a savage swish.

"Say, I'm a sort of a philant'ropic guy," went on Mosher, "an' there's
nothing I like better than doing the erring wife restitootion act. I
think I could induce that little woman of yours to come back to you."

Jim gave him a swift glance, but the man went on.

"To tell the truth, she's a bit stuck on me. Not my fault, of course.
Can't help it if a girl gets daffy on me. But say, I think I could get
her switched on to you if you made it worth my while. It's a business
proposition."

He was sneering now, frankly villainous. Jim gave no sign.

"What d'ye say? This is a likely bit of ground--give me a half-share in
this ground, an' I'll guarantee to deliver that little piece of goods to
you. There's an offer."

Again that smug look of generosity beamed on the man's face. Once more
Jim motioned him to go, but Mosher did not heed. He thought the gesture
was a refusal. His face grew threatening. "All right, if you won't," he
snarled, "look out! I know you love her still. Let me tell you, I own
that woman, body and soul, and I'll make life hell for her. I'll
torture you through her. Yes, I've got a cinch. You'd better change your
mind."

He had stepped back as if to go. Then, whether it was an accident or not
no one will ever know--but the little giant swung round till it bore on
him.

It lifted him up in the air. It shot him forward like a stone from a
catapult. It landed him on the bank fifty feet away with a sickening
crash. Then, as he lay, it pounded and battered him out of all semblance
of a man.

The waters were having their revenge.

CHAPTER XV

"There's something the matter with Jim," the Prodigal 'phoned to me from
the Forks; "he's gone off and left the cabin on Ophir, taken to the
hills. Some prospectors have just come in and say they met him heading
for the White Snake Valley. Seemed kind of queer, they say. Wouldn't
talk much. They thought he was in a fair way to go crazy."

"He's never been right since the accident," I answered;