. Dick was a man now. If
Felicia had seen him attack Ernest, she would have run away to her
death, just as she had for Dick's frenzy. Potentially, he was a murderer
too. But now he was a failure and as far as his red devil was concerned,
Felicia had died in vain.

Roger's heart seemed to stop beating with the horror of this thought.
Try as he would he could not get away from the idea that potentially he
shared Dick's guilt. And Felicia had been sacrificed in vain. Suddenly
he clenched his fists. No, by heaven, this should not be!

Roger pulled himself to his knees beside the cottonwood log and lifted
his ravished face to the stars.

"Listen, God!" he shouted. "It was not in vain! I'm going back! I'm
going back to Felicia and Charley and prove myself a man. I don't know
why Ernest did it. But that doesn't matter. I'm going back. Listen to
me, God!"

Half kneeling, half crouching, with the sinking moon touching his
burning eyes, his trembling lips, Roger watched the great compassionate
desert stars as if waiting for an answer. And as he waited, the answer
came. Roger whispered as if in reply.

"Yes! Yes! I love her! I love her! I love her! Oh, Charley, my darling!
I'm coming back to you and show you that Felicia did not die in vain!"

Then he slipped down into the sand and fell asleep as deeply, as sweetly
as a child, and the quiet stars looked down upon the dark slender figure
with infinite understanding.

The first rays of the sun roused Roger. He lay for a time blinking and
trying to account for the peace and happiness of which he was conscious
from the instant he opened his eyes. After a moment, memory spoke and he
jumped to his feet and stretched himself. Then he gave a sudden shout.

"Oh, I say, old Peter! You are a good scout! Waiting for me, are you?
Hang it! I couldn't blame you if you were just waiting to kick my brains
out. Just hold on till I get some breakfast and I'll be with you."

At Roger's shout, Peter left off his desultory browsing, lifted his tail
and brayed, an honest old fashioned bray that set Roger at his breakfast
getting with a broad grin.

The sun was not an hour high when the two started on the home trail.
Peter scorned the lead rope now but led the way nimbly, finding a far
easier trail than Roger had dragged him over the day before. Roger was
tired and stiff. He was dirty and unshaven. But he was happy; happy as
he had never dreamed of being; too happy, too utterly brain weary to