me in his life the true meaning of comradeship, and it aroused in
him a fierce love for Phil that could be likened only to the
mother-love of a cougar for her young.

That there was some shadow in Phil's life which Phil had never spoken
of to him, Jim knew only too well, but he cared little for his
friend's past. Only the present counted with men like Jim Langford.
Besides, it was little after all that Phil knew of Jim. But what he
did know was all to the good.

And, were they not in the West where heredity and social caste is
scoffed at, where what a man has sprung from, what he has been or done
amiss, matters not at all; where only whether or not he now stands
four-square with his fellows counts in the reckoning?

Yet, many times, Phil had made up his mind to confide in Jim and tell
him of all his past dealings with Brenchfield; what he had suffered in
his youthful folly for that creature who had only sought to do him
irreparable injury in return. But, somehow, he had kept thrusting it
into the background till a more favourable opportunity should present
itself.

The inevitable did come, however, swift and sudden, and all
unexpectedly for both of them.

CHAPTER XX

A Breach and a Confession

It was but two days from Christmas. Phil and Sol Hanson had been
striving hard to cope with an accumulation of work so that they might
be clear of it during the holiday season. Sol, in fact, had been
slaving at nights as well as during the day, until even he was
bordering on a physical exhaustion.

Jim Dalton, that evil genius, came into the smithy during a temporary
absence of Phil's, proffered Sol a drink from the inevitable bottle
which he always seemed to have hidden somewhere about his person, and
Sol was too weak to refuse.

By the time Phil got back Sol had disappeared.

For the first time since her marriage, Betty's love and influence had
failed to anchor her big, weak husband.

From past experience, Phil knew that it was useless going after the
big fellow, who required only a few hours to end his carousal. He
failed to return to the smithy that evening, so Phil locked up and
rode home. He did not call in at Sol's home, for he hoped that the
Swede would find his way there within a few hours more.

Next morning, Phil had to open up again.

Betty called in, flooded in tears. Sol had not been home. Phil
counselled her to go back and wait in her little cottage for the
return of her husband, for he did