he left that this night's work was
to be a work of redemption for him. He may get stronger some time."

In his heart Burgess knew better. He had no faith in the old man's will
power, and the burden of a hidden crime he knew would but increase its
weight with time, and drag Bond down at last. But Dennie need not suffer
now.

"Will you go with me down to the old Corral tomorrow afternoon, Dennie?
I want some plants that grow there. I'm studying nature along with
Greek," he said, smiling.

"Of course, if it is fair," Dennie replied, the pretty color blooming
deeper in her cheeks.

"Oh, we go fair or foul. You remember we fought it out coming home from
there once."

Meanwhile Bond Saxon was hurrying north on his work of redemption. At
the bend in the river he found Tom Gresh sitting on the flat stone slab.
The light was gleaming through the shrubbery of the little cottage, and
the homey sounds of evening and the twitter of late-coming birds were in
the air.

"What are you here for, Gresh?" Bond asked, hoarsely. "I thought you had
left for good."

The villainous-looking outlaw drew a flask from his pocket.

"Have a drink, Saxon. Take the whole bottle," and he thrust it into the
old man's hands.

Bond wavered a moment, then flung it far into the foamy floods of the
Walnut.

"Not any more. You shall not get me drunk again while you rob and kill."

"You did the killing for me once. Won't you do it again?" Gresh snarled.

Bond clinched his fists but did not strike.

"What are you after now?" he asked. "You are through with the Burleighs;
Vic settled you and you know it."

Even with the words the clutch of Vic's fingers on the outlaw's throat
seemed to choke him now.

"If my last Burleigh is gone," he growled with an oath, "I'm not done
yet. There's Elinor Wream. Don't forget that her mother was my adopted
sister. Don't forget that my old foster father cut me off without a
cent and gave her all his money. That's why Nathan Wream married her.
He wanted her money for colleges." The sneer on the man's face was
diabolical. "I can hit the old man through Elinor, and I'll do it some
time, and that's not the only blow that I can strike here, and I am
going to finish this thing now." He pointed toward the cottage where the
unprotected woman sat alone. "Twice I've nerved myself to do it and been
fooled each time. One October day you were here drunk. I could have laid
it on you easy, and maybe fixed Fenneben too, if a