hand."

He was helped to his feet; the servant went on before with the lamp, and
Blanchard, finding himself able to walk without difficulty, proceeded,
slowly supporting himself by the poacher's gun.

Grimbal waited for him to speak and presently he did so.

"Things falls out so different in this maze of a world from what man may
count on."

"How came it that you were here?"

"Blamed if I can tell 'e till I gather my wits together. 'Pears half a
century or so since I comed; yet ban't above two hour agone."

"You didn't come to see Sam Bonus, I suppose?"

"No fay! Never a man farther from my thought than him when I seed un
poke up his carrot head under the moon. I was 'pon my awn affairs an'
comed to see you. I wanted straight speech an' straight hitting; an' I
got 'em, for that matter. An' fightin' 's gude for the blood, I
reckon--anyway for my fashion blood."

"You came to fight me, then?"

"I did--if I could make 'e fight."

"With that gun?"

"With nought but a savage heart an' my two fistes. The gun belongs to
Sam Bonus. Leastways it did, but 't is mine now--or yours, as the party
most wronged."

"Come this way and drink a drop of brandy before you go home. Glad you
had some fighting as you wanted it so bad. I know what it feels like to
be that way, too. But there wouldn't have been blows between us. My mind
was made up. I wrote to Plymouth this afternoon. I wrote, and an hour
later decided not to post the letter. I've changed my intentions
altogether, because the point begins to appear in a new light. I'm sorry
for a good few things that have happened of late years."

Will breathed hard a moment; then he spoke slowly and not without more
emotion than his words indicated.

"That's straight speech--if you mean it. I never knawed how 't was that
a sportsman, same as you be, could keep rakin' awver a job an' drive a
plain chap o' the soil like me into hell for what I done ten year
agone."

"Let the past go. Forget it; banish it for all time as far as you have
the power. Blame must be buried both sides. Here's the letter upon my
desk. I'll burn it, and I'll try to burn the memory often years with it.
Your road's clear for me."

"Thank you," said Blanchard, very slowly. "I lay I'll never hear no
better news than that on this airth. Now I'm free--free to do how I
please, free to do it undriven."

There was a long silence. Grimbal poured out half a tumbler of brandy,
added soda water, then handed the