took nearly all he had. Still, he
played poker steadily now--for poker had been resumed when it was no
longer possible to gamble in lots--he drank a good deal, and he began
just at this time to take a singular interest in our volunteer police
guard. He had always been on hand when there was trouble, and I
sha'n't soon forget him the day Senator Mahone spoke, when we were
punching a crowd of mountaineers back with cocked Winchesters. He had
lost his hat in a struggle with one giant; he looked half crazy with
anger, and yet he was white and perfectly cool, and I noticed that he
never had to tell a man but once to stand back. Now he was the first
man to answer a police whistle. When we were guarding Talt Hall, he
always volunteered when there was any unusual risk to run. When we
raided the Pound to capture a gang of desperadoes, he insisted on going
ahead as spy; and when we got restless lying out in the woods waiting
for daybreak, and the captain suggested a charge on the cabin, Grayson
was by his side when it was made. Grayson sprang through the door
first, and he was the man who thrust his reckless head up into the loft
and lighted a match to see if the murderers were there. Most of us did
foolish things in those days under stress of excitement, but Grayson, I
saw, was weak enough to be reckless. His trouble with the girl,
whatever it was, was serious enough to make him apparently care little
whether he were alive or dead. And still I saw that not yet even had
he lost hope. He was having a sore fight with his pride, and he got
body-worn and heart-sick over it. Of course he was worsted, and in the
end, from sheer weakness, he went back to her once more.

I shall never see another face like his when Grayson came back that
last time. I never noticed before that there were silver hairs about
his temples. He stayed in his room, and had his meals sent to him. He
came out only to ride, and then at night. Waking the third morning at
daybreak, I saw him through the window galloping past, and I knew he
had spent the night on Black Mountain. I went to his room as soon as I
got up, and Grayson was lying across his bed with his face down, his
clothes on, and in his right hand was a revolver. I reeled into a
chair before I had strength enough to bend over him, and when I did I
found him asleep. I left him as he was, and I never let him know that
I had been to his room; but I got him out on the rock again that night,