s
case was what he must have. Acting on intuition he had been able to
put fear into the hearts of the four men responsible for making his
father's life a hell, but proof of their guilt was necessary to make
them suffer in a similar fashion, to reveal their crime to the world,
to destroy them. Now at last, here was a possibility. If this former
roustabout of the saloon knew anything!

Well, he must be patient--the mill of the gods grinds slowly. But when
finally he had gained all the strands and woven the net! Unconsciously
his hands arose before his face like talons closing on prey and shut
on air, until their veins swelled. That was how he would serve them,
those men. Though they might fall on their knees and implore mercy,
not one beat of pity should move his heart.

It was almost dark when he arose. Behind him the great peaks soared
against the last greenish twilight. In the shacks the camp lamps were
showing at windows. At one side and in the canyon the concrete core of
the dam appeared white in the gloom, like a bank of snow. The murmur
of voices, an occasional distant laugh, came from men's quarters.

Presently he slanted down the hillside past the camp, until he struck
into a road leading towards town, where he began to walk forward,
hatless and without coat, through the soft dusk. He was disinclined
for work as yet, the work always piled on his desk; he desired yet
for a little to rest his spirit in the evening calm.

His thoughts had softened and turned to Janet Hosmer. He had not seen
her since the morning at the court house. He had not spoken with her
since that interview upon her veranda, which had terminated with his
shocked utterance. That he had thus given away to his feeling he had a
hundred times repented; and that he had so bruskly departed he was
profoundly chagrined. But what could he have done? No explanation was
possible. The situation in which he had been allowed of but one thing,
escape.

With the rising tide of emotion reflected by memory of that moment his
steps had quickened. All at once he discovered before him the rippling
sheen of water. He was at Chico Creek, a mile from camp, where he
first had met Janet Hosmer. Engaged with his tangled problem, he had
been unaware of the distance covered.

Pausing but an instant he waded through, smiling to himself at thought
of that afternoon's spirited encounter with the girl. She had not
dreamed then, nor he, that events would fling them togeth