sat down to
rest his tired, weary, sore limbs. The sun was now setting behind the
western hills, the soft gentle twilight was drooping over the mountain
and valley; still Wade sat, dangling his feet over a precipice, gazing
down through the gathering mist into the gleaming waters below, watching
them as they went dancing gleefully over the rocks, sending their
sparkling, silvery spray high into the air, falling again like silver
bubbles. When the dark shadows swooped down and the day was no more, he
still sat. When the golden moon rose above the towering mountain,
dispelling the hideousness of a lonesome, dark night, he was still
sitting in the same spot, dangling his heels against the solid
embankment. Across his limbs lay his rifle, his right hand protecting
it, while his chin rested firmly in his left hand, which was supported
at the elbow by his left leg. Thus he sat silent, no sound save that of
the rippling waters of the little running brook breaking the stillness
of the night.

"Ah me, ah me!" sighed Wade. His head was bent and his heart was
stooped; it must be all over. "For so long a time have I been about this
mountain, and the object of my coming, though faithfully sought, has not
been found; my purpose remains yet unfulfilled. The tortures I would
have inflicted upon others have been turned upon my own heart. My soul
is sad. I give up, I give up, for all time. There are now no murderous
intents in my heart, there are now no evil designs in my life. Would
that I was at peace with everybody. All my heart's desire is peace,
sweet peace, that I might spend the balance of my days amid the sweet
perfumed mountain flowers and about this dear little stream with whose
swiftly running waters I have raced so often, always with her, the
sweetest and most beautiful of all. Dear wild flower of the mountain!"

Wade raised his head until he looked into the beautiful blue of the
heavens. The gleaming stars, arrayed in silvery brightness, looked down
on him.

"Speak, lights of God, speak to my waiting heart, speak to my burdened
soul and tell me, if you can, what the future holds in store for me. Am
I to continue in hell on earth for my evil life? If so, tell me quick
that I might dash my head against yonder rock and end the torture now.
If not, speak, that she might live. God save her, let not her present
illness separate us forever. It would blight my life; it would kill me.
Save her that she may save my soul from a tort