acted potency of Manti's whiskey, for not once
during his home-coming had Levins shown the slightest sign of returning
consciousness. He was as slack as a meal sack now, as Trevison lifted him
from the pony's back and let him slip gently to the ground at his feet. A
few minutes later, Trevison was standing in the doorway of the cabin, his
burden over his shoulder, the weak glare of light from within the cabin
stabbing the blackness of the night and revealing him to the white-faced
woman who had answered his summons.

Her astonishment had been of the mute, agonized kind; her eyes, hollow,
eloquent with unspoken misery and resignation, would have told Trevison
that this was not the first time, had he not known from personal
observation. She stood watching, gulping, shame and mortification bringing
patches of color into her cheeks, as Trevison carried Levins into a
bedroom and laid him down, removing his boots. She was standing near the
door when Trevison came out of the bedroom; she was facing the blackness
of the desert night--a blacker future, unknowingly--and Trevison halted on
the threshold of the bedroom door and set his teeth in sympathy. For the
woman deserved better treatment. He had known her for several years--since
the time when Levins, working for him, had brought her from a ranch on the
other side of the Divide, announcing their marriage. It had been a
different Levins, then, as it was a different wife who stood at the door
now. She had faded; the inevitable metamorphosis wrought by neglect, worry
and want, had left its husks--a wan, tired-looking woman of thirty who had
only her hopes to nourish her soul. There were children, too--if that were
any consolation. Trevison saw them as he glanced around the cabin. They
were in another bed; through an archway he could see their chubby faces.
His lungs filled and his lips straightened.

But he grinned presently, in an effort to bring cheer into the cabin,
reaching into a pocket and bringing out the money he had recovered for
Levins.

"There are nearly a thousand dollars here. Two tin-horn gamblers tried to
take it from Clay, but I headed them off. Tell Clay--"

Mrs. Levins' face whitened; it was more money than she had ever seen at
one time.

"Clay's?" she interrupted, perplexedly. "Why, where--"

"I haven't the slightest idea--but he had it, they tried to take it away
from him--it's here now--it belongs to you." He shoved it into her hands
and stepped back,