tands listening, and yet you dare throw my coming to you in my
face?"

White to the lips went the scarred visage of the man, but the madness
was upon him.

"I dare?" To his own ears the voice sounded unnatural. "I dare? To be
sure I dare! You came to me of your own free-will. You were not a
child!" His voice rose and the flush returned to his face. "You knew the
price and accepted it deliberately,--deliberately, I say!"

Without a sound, the figure in the rough bunk quivered and stiffened;
the hand upon the coverlet was clenched until the nails grew white, then
it relaxed. Slowly, very slowly, the eyelids closed as though in sleep.

Impassive but intent listener, an instinct now sent the boy Benjamin
back to his post.

"Mamma," he said gently. "Mamma!"

There was no answer, nor even a responsive pressure of the hand.

"Mamma!" he repeated more loudly. "Mamma! Mamma!"

Still no answer, only the limp passivity. Then suddenly, although never
before in his short life had the little lad looked upon death, he
recognized it now. His mamma, his playmate, his teacher, was like this;
she would not speak to him, would not answer him; she would never speak
to him or smile upon him again! Like a thunderclap came the realization
of this. Then another thought swiftly followed. This man,--one who had
said things that hurt her, that brought the red spots to her
cheeks,--this man was to blame. Not in the least did he understand the
meaning of what he had just heard. No human being had suggested to him
that Blair was the cause of his mother's death; but as surely as he
would remember their words as long as he lived, so surely did he
recognize the man's guilt. Suddenly, as powder responds to the spark,
there surged through his tiny body a terrible animal hate for this man,
and, scarcely realizing the action, he rushed at him.

"She's dead and you killed her!" he screamed. "Mamma's dead, dead!" and
the little doubled fists struck at the man's legs again and again.

Oblivious to the onslaught, Tom Blair strode over to the bunk.

"Jennie," he said, not unkindly, "Jennie, what's the matter?"

Again there was no response, and a shade of awe crept into the man's
voice.

"Jennie! Jennie! Answer me!" A hand fell upon the woman's shoulder and
shook it, first gently, then roughly. "Answer me, I say!"

With the motion, the head of the dead shifted upon the pillow and turned
toward the man, and involuntarily he loosened his grasp. He h