f Durade's bones, in
the ghastly terror and fear of death upon the Spaniard's face, in the
feel of the knife-blade as he forced Durade to stab himself. Always
Neale had been haunted by this final scene of his evil life in
the construction camps. A somber and spectral shape, intangible,
gloomy-faced, often, attended him in the shadow. He justified his deed,
for Durade would have killed Allison Lee. But that fact did not prevent
the haunting shape, the stir in the dark air, the nameless step upon
Neale's trail.

And jealousy, stronger than all except fear, wore Neale out of his
exaltation, out of his dream, out of his old disposition to work.
He could persist in courage if not in joy. But jealous longing would
destroy him--he felt that. It was so powerful, so wonderful that it
brought back to him words and movements which until then he had been
unable to recall.

And he lived over the past. Much still baffled him, yet gradually more
and more of what had happened became clear specifically in his memory.
He could not think from the present back over the past. He had to ponder
the other way. One day, leaning on his sledge, Neale's torturing self,
morbid, inquisitive, growing by what it fed on, whispered another
question to his memory.

"What were some of the last words she spoke to me?" And there, limned
white on the dark background of his mind, the answer appeared, "NEALE,
_I_ FORGIVE YOU!"

He recalled her face, the tragic eyes, the outstretched arms.

"Forgive me! For what?" Neale muttered, dazed and troubled. He dropped
his sledge and remained standing there, though the noon whistle called
the gang to dinner. Looking out across the hot, smoky, arid desert he
saw again that scene where he had appealed to Allison Lee.

The picture was etched out vividly, and again he lived through those big
moments of emotion.

The room full of men--Lee's cold acceptance of fact, his thanks,
his offer, his questions, his refusal--General Lodge's earnest
solicitation--the rapid exchange of passionate words between them--the
query put to Neale and his answer--the sudden appearance of Allie,
shocking his heart with rapture--her sweet, wild words--and so the end!
How vivid now--how like flashes of lightning in his mind!

"Lee thought I'd killed Stanton," muttered Neale, in intense perplexity.
"But she--she told them Larry did it.... What a strange idea Lee
had--and General Lodge, too. He defended me.... Ah!"

Suddenly Neale drew fr