involved he might rise
up and demand a retraction. In his first rush of bitterness Wiley had
stated without reservation that Virginia had sold him out for money, and
the pride of the Huffs would scarcely allow this to pass unnoticed--and
yet he would not retract it if he died for it. He knew from her own lips
that Virginia had betrayed him, and it could never be explained away.

If she argued that she was misled by Blount and his associates, he had
warned her before she left; and if she had thought that he was doing her
an injustice, that was not the way to correct it. She had accepted a
trust and she had broken that trust to gain a personal profit--and that
was the unpardonable sin. He could have excused her if she had weakened
or made some mistake, but she had betrayed him deliberately and
willfully; and as he sat off by himself, mulling it over in his mind,
his eyes became stern and hard. For the killing of Stiff Neck George he
had no regrets, and the treachery of Blount did not surprise him; but he
had given this woman his heart to keep and she had sold him for fifty
thousand dollars. All the rest became as nothing but this wound refused
to heal, for he had lost his faith in womankind. Had he loved her less,
or trusted her less, it would not have rankled so deep; but she had been
his one woman, whose goings and comings he watched for, and all the time
she was playing him false.

He sat silent one morning in the cool shade of a wild grapevine, jerking
the meat of a mountain sheep that he had killed; and as he worked
mechanically, shredding the flesh into long strips, he watched the lower
trail. Ten days had gone by since he had fled across the Valley, but the
danger of pursuit had not passed and, as he saw a great owl that was
nesting down below rise up blindly and flop away he paused and reached
for his gun.

"Never mind," said the Colonel who had noticed the movement. "I expect
an old Indian in with grub. But step into the cave and if it's who you
think it is you can count on me till the hair slips."

Wiley stepped in quietly, strapping on his belt and pistol, and then the
Colonel burst into a roar.

"It's Charley," he cried, leaping nimbly to his feet and putting up his
gun. "Come on, boy--here's where we get that drink!"

Wiley looked out doubtfully as Heine rushed up and sniffed at the pans
of meat, and then he ducked back and hid. Around the shoulder of the
cliff came Death Valley Charley; but behind him,