ildings, one on each side of the two that had been destroyed, scorched
and warped, but otherwise undamaged.

"Come pretty near burning the whole town. It took _some_ work to confine
_that_ fire--coal oil. Trevison did a clean job. Robbed the safe in the
bank. Killed Braman--guzzled him. An awful complete job, from Trevison's
viewpoint. The town's riled, and I wouldn't give a plugged cent for
Trevison's chances. He's sloped. Desperate character--I always thought
he'd rip things loose--give him time. It was him blowed up Corrigan's
mine. I ain't seen Corrigan since last night, but I heard him and twenty
or thirty deputies are on Trevison's trail. I hope they get him." He
squinted at her. "There's trouble brewing in this town, Miss Benham. I
wouldn't advise you to stay here any longer than is _absolutely_
necessary. There's two factions--looks like. It's about that land deal.
Lefingwell and some more of them think they've been given a raw decision
by the court and Corrigan. Excitement! Oh, Lord! This town is fierce. I
ain't had any sleep in--Your answer? I can't tell. Mebbe right away. Mebbe
in an hour."

Rosalind went out upon the platform. The agent's words had revived a
horror that she had almost forgotten--that she wanted to forget--the
murder of Braman.

She walked to the edge of the station platform, tortured by thoughts in
which she could find no excuse for Trevison. Murderer and robber! A
fugitive from justice--the very justice he had been demanding! Her
thoughts made her weak and sick, and she stepped down from the platform
and walked up the track, halting beside a shed and leaning against it.
Across the street from her was the _Castle_ hotel. A man in boots,
corduroy trousers, and a flannel shirt and dirty white apron, his sleeves
rolled to the elbows, was washing the front windows and spitting streams
of tobacco juice on the board walk. She shivered. A grocer next to the
hotel was adjusting a swinging shelf affixed to the store-front,
preparatory to piling his wares upon it; a lean-faced man standing in a
doorway in the building adjoining the grocery was inspecting a six-shooter
that he had removed from the holster at his side. Rosalind shivered again.
Civilization and outlawry were strangely mingled here. She would not have
been surprised to see the lean-faced man begin to shoot at the others.
Filled with sudden trepidation she took a step away from the shed,
intending to return to the station and wait for he