he looked the hard and reckless
character they thought him, because his sensibilities were raw and
quivering.

The dog knew. He was free to move about; he was well-fed and freshly
clothed, and the policemen acted toward him with a disinterestedness so
scrupulous it was almost like kindness.

Nevertheless Ambrose felt their belief in his guilt like a hunchback
feels the difference in the world's glance. In his moments of blackest
discouragement the suggestion flitted oddly through his brain that
maybe he was guilty of all these preposterous crimes.

If this was not enough, once he heard them discussing his case. He was
lying in a tent, and there was a little group of troopers at the door,
smoking. They thought he was asleep.

He heard Emslie say: "Doane looks like a decent-enough head, doesn't
he? Shows you never can tell."

"The worst criminals are always a decent-looking sort," said another.
"That's why they're dangerous."

"By gad!" said a third, "when you think of all he's responsible for,
even if he didn't do it with his own hands--arson, robbery,
murder--think what that girl at Enterprise has been through! By gad!
hanging's too good for him!"

"Any man that would lower himself to rouse the passions of the Indians
against his own kind--he isn't worth the name of white man!"

"The worst of it is nothing you can do to Doane will repair the damage.
He's put back the white man's work in this country twenty years!"

Ambrose rolled over and covered his head with his arms. These were
honest men who spoke, men he would have chosen for friends.

Nest morning he showed no sign, except perhaps an added sullenness.
Nevertheless he had received a hurt that would never altogether heal
while he lived.

No matter how swift rehabilitation might follow, after an experience
like this a man could never have the same frank confidence in the power
of truth.

It was a point of pride with him to be a model prisoner. He gave as
little trouble as possible, and during the whole journey made but one
request.

That was at the last spell before reaching the fort. He asked for a
razor. Colina might scorn him like the others, but she should not see
him looking like a tramp.

Immediately upon their arrival at Fort Enterprise, John Gaviller in his
capacity as Justice of the Peace held a hearing in the police room in
the quarters.

Gaviller's health was largely restored, but the old assurance was
lacking, perhaps he wou