took a position at the door. The
Judge sank to the floor of the chamber, groaning.

The hours dragged slowly. Trevison changed his position twice. Once he
went away, but returned in a few minutes with a canteen, from which he
drank, deeply. The Judge had been without food or water since the night
before, and thirst tortured him. The gurgle of the water as it came out of
the canteen, maddened him.

"I'd like a drink, Trevison."

"Of course. Any man would."

"May I have one?"

"The minute you tell me where that record is."

The Judge subsided. A moment later Trevison's voice floated into the
chamber, cold and resonant:

"I don't think you're in this thing for money, Judge. Corrigan has some
sort of a hold on you. What is it?"

The Judge did not answer.

The sun climbed to the zenith. It grew intensely hot in the chamber. Twice
during the afternoon the Judge asked for water, and each time he received
the answer he had received before. He did not ask for food, for he felt it
would not be given him. At sundown his captor entered the chamber and gave
him a meager draught from the canteen. Then he withdrew and stood on the
ledge in front of the door, looking out into the darkening plains, and
watching him, a conviction of the futility of resisting him seized the
Judge. He stood framed in the opening of the chamber, the lines of his
bold, strong face prominent in the dusk, the rifle held loosely in the
crook of his left arm, the right hand caressing the stock, his shoulders
squared, his big, lithe, muscular figure suggesting magnificent physical
strength, as the light in his eyes, the set of his head and the firm lines
of his mouth, brought a conviction of rare courage and determination. The
sight of him thrilled the Judge; he made a picture that sent the Judge's
thoughts skittering back to things primitive and heroic. In an earlier day
the Judge had dreamed of being like him, and the knowledge that he had
fallen far short of realizing his ideal made him shiver with
self-aversion. He stifled a moan--or tried to and did not succeed, for it
reached Trevison's ears and he turned quickly.

"Did you call, Judge?"

"Yes, yes!" whispered the Judge, hoarsely. "I want--to tell you
everything! I have longed to tell you all along!"

An hour later they were sitting on the edge of the ledge, their feet
dangling, the abyss below them, the desert stars twinkling coldly above
them; around them the indescribable solitude of a des