ou, to-morrow. Come along."

Dennis suddenly swung round with a gesture of fury. "He spoiled
her-treated her like dirt!" he cried huskily.

With savage purpose he made a movement towards where Marchand had lain;
but Marchand was gone. With foresight Ingolby had quickly and quietly
accomplished that while Dennis's back was turned.

"You'd be treating her like a brute if you went to prison for killing
Marchand," urged Ingolby. "Give her a chance. She's fretting her heart
out."

"She wants to go back to Elk Mountain with you," pleaded Fleda gently.
"She couldn't do that if the law took hold of you."

"Ain't there to be any punishment for men like him?" demanded Dennis,
stubbornly yet helplessly. "Why didn't I let him burn! I'd have been
willing to burn myself to have seen him sizzling. Ain't men like that to
be punished at all?"

"When he knows who has saved him, he'll sizzle inside for the rest of
his life," remarked Ingolby. "Don't think he hasn't got a heart. He's
done wrong and gone wrong; he has belonged to the sewer, but he isn't
all bad, and maybe this is the turning-point. Drink'll make a man do
anything."

"His kind are never sorry for what they do," commented Dennis bitterly.
"They're sorry for what comes from what they do, but not for the doing
of it. I can't think the thing out. It makes me sick. I was hunting for
him to kill him; I was watching this town like a lynx, and I've been and
gone and saved his body from Hell on earth."

"Well, perhaps you've saved his soul from Hell below," said Fleda.
"Ah, come! Your face and hands are burned, your hair is scorched--your
clothes need mending. Arabella is waiting for you. Come home with me to
Arabella."

With sudden resolve Dennis squared his shoulders. "All right," he said.
"This thing's too much for me. I can't get the hang of it. I've lost my
head."

"No, I won't come, I can't come now," said Ingolby, in response to an
inquiring look from Fleda.

"Not now, but before sundown, please."

As Fleda and Dennis disappeared, Ingolby looked back towards the fire.
"How good it is to see again even a sight like that," he said. "Nothing
that the eyes see is so horrible as the pictures that come to the mind
when the eyes don't see. As Dennis said, I can't get the hang of it, but
I'll try--I'll try."

The burning of Gautry's tavern had been conquered, though not before it
was a shell; and the houses on either side had been saved. Lebanon had
shown itself mast