he goes about. That fellow's as deep as the sky is high.
Folks think now that he knew she would come into that money away back
when he first set out to catch her. They don't know how he got onto it,
but it looks like he had a tip from some source or other."

With the lips and throat of a corpse, Dick Wrinkle swore; the pupils of
his eyes dilated; his yellow fingers, like prongs of dried rawhide,
clutched the edge of the table, and the tremor of his body shook it
visibly.

"I see it all now," he gasped. "He must have known it; he was crazy to
get her, and--and he took her as soon after--after I left as he could
possibly manage it. The Lord only knows what means he used, for, as you
say, she still loves me."

"Folks say Henley turns up his nose at common folks now," Bradley went
on. "He's planning a great stock-farm, and going to keep fine-blooded
race-horses, and him and his wife is going to travel about and see the
world. Things certainly run crooked in this life." Bradley laughed
significantly, his studious eyes on his victim's tortured visage. "Here
you are, all alone away out here in a measly little joint like this when
your old enemy is living like a king in the bosom of your family. Why,
he's even robbed you of your daddy and mammy. You are dead, buried, and
laughed at, Dick. I reckon you are not making much out of this thing?"
Bradley swept the meagre stock and cheap fixtures with a contemptuous
glance.

"Don't make my salt!" Wrinkle groaned. "Nothing is coming in, and no
prospect of a change. New town, Citico, drawing all the trade. I've
thought of selling out. There's a fellow here that has made me a cash
offer for the whole shooting-match--a thousand dollars down. He's a
gambler that is at the end of his rope; his wife says she'll quit 'im
and marry another man if he don't get into something more steady. She's
willing to put up the money if he'll buy me out. He's crazy for a deal.
He's got friends and can make it go. His wife's kin live here and she
won't move. He's in every hour of the day, shaking his wad in my face. I
saw him just now as I come down to open up. I'd let him have the dang
thing, but I don't know where to go. I'm sick o' the game, Hank. I've
had enough of the wild and woolly West. I've laid awake many and many a
night, by gosh! mighty nigh crying for the old life in the mountains.
Lord, Lord, I set here sometimes when there ain't anybody about except a
drunk Injun or cowboy and git so blue