s life--even to satisfy a new, fierce
hate--he could not stir. He stood a moment thus, then an animal-like
frenzy, irresistible but impotent, seized him. He darted his head
forward and spat in the heavy face so close to his own.

The unspeakable contempt of the insult shattered Bud Ellis's
self-control. Prompted by blind fury, the great fist of the man shot
out, hammer-like, and Clayton crumpled at his feet. It was a blow that
would have felled the proverbial ox; it was the counterpart of many
other blows, plus berserker rage, that had split pine boards for sheer
joy in the ability to do so. These thoughts came sluggishly to the
inflamed brain, and Ellis all at once dropped to his knees beside the
limp, prostrate figure.

He bent over Clayton, he who had once been his friend. He was scarcely
apprehensive at first, and he called his name brusquely; then, as grim
conviction grew, his appeals became frantic.

At last Ellis shrank away from the Thing upon the floor. He stared
until his eyeballs burnt like fire. It would never, while time lasted,
move again.

Horror unutterable fell upon him.

II

In the year 1807 there were confined in a common Western jail, amid a
swarm of wretches of every degree of baseness, two men as unlike as
storm and sunshine. One was charged with treason, the other with
murder; conviction, in either case, meant death.

One was a man of middle age, an aristocrat born; a college graduate
and a son of a college graduate; a man handsome of appearance,
passionate and ambitious, who knew men's natures as he knew their
names. He had fought bravely for his country, and his counsels had
helped mould the foundations of the new republic. Honored by his
fellow-men, he had served brilliantly in such exalted positions as
that of United States Senator, and Attorney General for the State of
New York. On one occasion, only a single vote stood between him and
the presidency.

His name was Aaron Burr.

The other was a big backwoodsman of twenty, whose life had been as
obscure as that of a domestic animal. He was rough of manner and slow
of speech, and just now, owing to a combination of physical
confinement and mental torture altogether unlovely in disposition.

This man was Bud Ellis.

The other prisoners--a motley lot of frontier reprobates--ate
together, slept together, and quarrelled together. Looking constantly
for trouble, and thrown into actual contact with an object as
convenient as Aaron