or her--all but the part that I didn't do at all, for
that was an accident and nothin' else--and she says she'll try to
forgive me! I've heered of 'em pardoning men out o' state's prison after
fifteen or twenty years, maybe, 'cause they found they'd never done the
thing they was put in fur. _Pardoning_ 'em out, mind you! I never could
understand that. Seems as if it ought to be t'other way, but they go on
doin' it just the same, so I s'pose I'm off on that, too. The fact is,
things is pretty complexited sometimes. I can't get the right end,
nohow."

"Nate," said Dalton, "do you claim you didn't mean to hit Hapgood--not
at all?"

"Of course I didn't mean to. Hadn't I had him down, with the stick in my
hand, right over him, and didn't I drop it, and take him by the collar,
as easy as an old shoe, and tell him to come along?"

"But how, then"----began Dalton.

"Wait, sir, and I'll tell you straight."

Nate had risen and stood opposite the manager, his eyes glowing out from
the yellow glare of the lantern, which was set on the floor in their
midst. Joyce watched him from her chair, and the officer, also risen,
leaned against the bunk, his gaze never leaving the speaker.

"'Twas this way. When Lucy called out so sharp, and come running out, I
said 'twas to the lock-up I was going to take him. At that everybody
screeched, and Bill turned on me like a mad bear. He's a gritty
fighter"--He paused and looked around in his slow way----"I s'pose I
oughter say was, now. Bill _was_ a gritty fighter allays and he nearly
knocked the breath outen me with his first blow. I felt the stick
slidin' away from me, and knew 'twas my only holt. If Bill got the best
o' me I was done fur. He was a mighty good fighter, and quicker'n a cat.
I gripped at the stick and lost my balance, so't I nearly fell over
backward. My arms flew out, spite of me, and the big stick struck wild.
It killed poor Bill. But can't you see I didn't do it, Mr. Dalton?
Before God, I ain't guilty of the murder of Lucy's father! I was mad,
but not like that."

Dalton stepped forward and put out his hand.

"I believe you, Nate. I'm glad you told me!"

They shook hands warmly, and Joyce thrilled in sympathy.

The two talked a while longer, then all said good-night, but not before
Nate had been promised the best counsel money could procure. As Joyce
shook hands with him, Nate held her soft fingers an instant, and looked
searchingly into her face, upon which the smoki