truction gang. As he came within view of the poor little
tenements, so recently vacated by the Irish ditchers, all awry and
askew, stretching in a wavering row along the river-bank near the
junction of the levee that he had built with the main line, his eyes
filled. Oh, why had he not gone with the rest of the camp? he demanded
of an untoward fate; why must he have stayed a day longer to bespeak the
correction of an injurious error from that proud, hard man, who,
however, had wrought his last injury on earth? Hoxer was sorry, but
chiefly for his own plight. He felt that his deed was in self-defense,
and but that he had no proof he would not fear to offer the plea at the
bar of justice. As it was, however, he was sanguine of escaping without
this jeopardy. No one had cause to suspect him. No one had seen him
enter the Jeffrey grounds that fatal evening. There had been noised
abroad no intimation of his grievance against the man. He had all the
calm assurance of invisibility as he came to his abode, for a fog lay
thick on the surface of the river and hung over all the land. He did not
issue forth again freshly dressed till the sun was out once more,
dispelling the vapors and conjuring the world back to sight and life.
Nevertheless, he made no secret of having been abroad when an
acquaintance came up the road and paused for an exchange of the news of
the day.

"But what makes ye look so durned peaked?" he broke off, gazing at Hoxer
in surprise.

Hoxer was astonished at his own composure as he replied: "Out all night.
I was in the swamp with the posse."

"See the fire? They tell me 't wuz more'n dangerous to fire the brake
when the woods is so uncommon dry. I dunno what we would do here in the
bottom with a forest fire."

"Pretty big blaze now, sure's ye're born," Hoxer replied casually, and
so the matter passed.

Later in the day another gossip, whose acquaintance he had made during
his levee-building venture, loitered up to talk over the absorbing
sensation, and, sitting down on the door-step of the shack, grew
suddenly attentive to the little dog.

"What makes him limp?" he demanded abruptly.

But Hoxer had not observed that he did limp.

The acquaintance had taken the little animal up on his knee and was
examining into his condition. "Gee! how did he get so footsore?"

"Following me around, I reckon," Hoxer hazarded. But he saw, or thought
he saw, a change on the stolid face of the visitor, who was unpleasant