uch a thing as that, I can tell you that I know you
better than you know yourself."

"I merely said that that was what I ought to do. I know well enough
that I shan't do it, but the reason is far beneath that which you are
good enough to hint at. I'm a broken man, Whitley; what I have gone
through in the past few months has smashed my nerve. You can't
understand that--I don't expect you to. But if I should meet those two
old men when I leave this house, I should probably run away from them
and try to hide."

"But what _will_ you do?" he queried.

"What can I do, more than I've been doing?"

Again a silence intervened.

"I wish I knew how to advise you," Whitley said at length. "If there
were only some way in which you might shake off this wretched hired
spy!"

"I can't. If I dodge him, he has only to wait until I report myself
again to the prison authorities. The one thing I can do is to relieve
you of my threatening presence, and I'll do that now--to-night, while
the going is good."

He was at the end of his resources, as I knew he must be, and he made
no objections. But at train-time he got up and put on his overcoat to
accompany me as far as the station. It was a rough night outside, and
I tried to dissuade him, but he wouldn't have it that way. "No," he
said; "it's my privilege to speed the parting guest, if I can do no
more than that," and so we breasted the spitting snow-storm which was
sweeping the empty streets, tramping in silence until we reached the
shelter of the train-shed.

It was after the train had whistled for the crossing below the town
that Whitley asked me again what I intended doing. I answered him
frankly because it was his due.

"It has come down to one of two things: day-labor, in a field where a
man is merely a number on the pay-roll--or that other road which is
always open to the prison-bird."

He put his hand on my shoulder. "You are not going to take the other
road, Weyburn," he said gravely.

"I hope not--I hope I shan't be driven to."

"You mustn't make it conditional. I know you are not a criminal; you
were not a criminal when you were convicted. You can't afford to begin
to be one now."

"Neither can I afford to starve," I interposed. "Other men live by
their wits, and so can I, if I'm driven to it. But I'll play fair with
you, Whitley. So long as I can keep body and soul together, with a
pick and shovel, or any other implement that comes to hand, I'll s