rutally. "Guess if you can't
b'lieve me go an' ast Peter. He's in his hut. He helped defend Jim,
an' said a heap o' fule things 'bout gettin' the law on Doc. Ast him
if you don't b'lieve me."

But whereas he had only intended to force her belief by his challenge,
Eve took him literally. She snatched at his words, and he suddenly
became afraid. She picked up the knife and the rags, which before she
had refused to touch, and grasped him by one wrist.

"Yes, yes, we'll go over to Peter, and I'll have the truth from him. I
can't trust you, Elia. You were there when Will was murdered; you've
been down to the saloon, outside it. You must have seen the killing,
and you've not said one word in his defense, not one word as to the
reason of Will's death. Jim did it in your defense, and you're letting
him hang without a word to help him. You shall tell Peter what you've
told me, and maybe it isn't too late to do something yet. Come
along."

But the boy tried to drag free. His guilty conscience made him fear
Peter, and in a frenzy he struggled to release himself.

But Eve was no longer the gentle, indulgent woman he had always known.
She was fighting for a life perhaps dearer to her than Elia's. She saw
a barely possible chance that through Elia she might yet save Jim.
Will's brutal attack upon a cripple had met with perhaps something
more than its deserts, but these men were men, and maybe the
extenuation of the provocation might at least save Jim the rope.

Elia quickly gave up the struggle. His bodily hurts had robbed him of
what little physical strength he possessed at the best of times; and
Eve, for all her slightness, was by no means a weak woman. She
literally forced him to go, half dragging him, and never for a moment
relaxing her hold upon him.

And so they came to Peter's hut. She knocked loudly at the door, and
called to him, fearing, because she saw no light, that the man had
gone out again. But Peter was there, and his astonished voice answered
her summons at once.

"Eve?" he cried, in something like consternation, for he was thinking
of the news he must now give her. Then he appeared in the doorway.

"Quick, light a lamp," the woman cried. "Elia has told me all about
it. He says Jim is to die at--dawn." She glanced involuntarily at the
eastern horizon, and to her horror beheld the first pale reflection of
morning light, hovering, an almost milky lightening, where all else
was still jet black.

Peter had no