She had wondered where I was, and the soft echo of her sympathy filled my heart with a psalm. Surely she could not have suspected me of Estell's blood. But the Senator—why did he break in as if impatient of my name? Had he grown weary with hearing it? But his interruption, it was not hard to believe, was more of a sorrow than an impatience.

I was near the stable now, but I stopped the horse, almost of a mind to turn back, to touch her hand, even if compelled to run away to hide again in fear and shame. I glanced down at my mean garb, I thought of the fierce aspect of my beard-gnarled face, and pride, not fear, forced me to hesitate. "But I will go early in the morning," I mused, as I drove on, still debating, the horse slow under the restraint of my sullenness. "I will shave my face and—"

A man stepped out from the shadow into the light and raised his hand—the man who had put me in a tremor of fear. "I want to see you a moment," he said.

I was near the sidewalk, at the mouth of an alley, and without a moment of speculation as to what the fellow might mean I leaped from the cab and darted into the alley. He raised a cry and I heard another noise, a pistol shot, perhaps. I plunged through an opening and scrambled over a great pile of scrap-iron; I tore open a frail gate and came out upon a street. People were passing, but they paid but little attention to me. I crossed the street, entered another alley, made as quick time as I could, and came out near the river.

All through the night I hastened onward, sometimes on a railway track and often in the mud of the prairie. My running away might have been foolish; the man might simply have wanted to make an inquiry. And, indeed, if he had settled upon me why had he waited so long? It was easy enough to reason, but reason when slower than action is a miserable cripple. I had money enough to pay my way out West, but caution dictated a fear of open travel, so I was resolved to walk in lonely places until I felt that to trust a railway train would be less of a risk. The rain increased with the coming of daylight, and I was driven to seek the shelter of a barn. A man came out to milk the cows.

"I have invited myself in out of the rain," said I, as he gave me a suspicious look.

"All right. A man ought to have sense enough to come in out of the rain. Which way are you traveling?"

"Looking for work," I answered.

"Well, you ought to be able to find it. But most men hunting for work these days put me in mind of a horse goin' along the road lookin' for somethin' to get scared at. A feller came along yesterday and said he was hungry; but when I showed him some work I wanted done he skulked off. Are you hungry enough to help build a fence?"

"No, but I'm hungry enough to pay for something to eat."

"Oh, well, then, I guess you're all right. Just go on to the house and make yourself to home."

I went to the house; and while sitting by the fire, the wind high and the rain lashing at the window, I formed the resolve to go back to Bolanyo. I would surrender myself to the authorities, to claim the right of trial by jury and to accept the result. And reason was not now a coward, a cripple, but more like a man, cool, bold and strong. I reviewed with pity the morbid fear that held me back from Maffet; I felt now that in safety I could have made myself known to him. The Senator had come to look after my interest, and surely he would not have frowned upon me. Yes, I would go back to Bolanyo. I was sick of the rabbitlike freedom of an outlaw.

"How far is it to the railway station?" I inquired of the farmer.

"Well," he drawled, "I don't know for certain."

I knew that it was not in his Yankee nature to give me a direct answer, so I waited.

"There's a milk station a little nearer than the other one. Want to get on the train?"

"Oh, no, I want to go over to the station to see how it looks in the rain."

"Which, the milk station or the other one? Ain't much to see over there, but the land's worth all of a hundred dollars an acre. But when we came out here from Connecticut it could have been bought for a song and they wouldn't have insisted on your carryin' the tune so mighty well. If you want to go jest to look, the milk station is as good as any and a good deal better than some; but if you want to get on the express train you'd better go to the other one."

"How far is it?"

"Which, the other one?"

"Yes, the other one. How far is it?"

"Well, if you walk, it's—"

"I don't want to walk; I want you to drive me."

"Oh, well, if that's the case I guess we can fix it. I'll drive you over for half a dollar. The train will be along about dark or a little after. You've got plenty of time."

"Have you a razor?"

"I guess I had the best razor you ever saw, but the woman (he meant his wife) took it one day and raked all the edge off it. But I've got another one, a rattler."

"Would you mind my shaving with it?"

"Well, do you shave left-handed or right-handed?"

"Right-handed."

"That's what I was afraid of. I shave left-handed, and if you change after the razor is set, why, it rather warps it, so to speak. Neighbor of mine had a razor ruined that way. It might not ruin mine, but I'm inclined to believe it would suffer about ten cents' worth."

"All right, I'll stand the damage. You grab after every penny in sight, I see."

"Well, I hadn't thought of that, but now that you put me in mind of it, I guess I will. And why not? Wheat down, can't give oats away, and hogs a-squealin' because they ain't worth nothin'. Everybody's got his teeth on edge agin the farmer, and if he don't grab at every penny in sight they'll have to lift him into a wagon and haul him to the poorhouse. I'll get the razor."

I heard him fussing about in an adjoining room, with a complaint, directed at his wife, that nothing could ever be found on the place, and presently he returned with the razor, a strop, a bar of soap and a dish of hot water. I looked at his bearded face and was tickled with conquest to notice his embarrassment. It was, however, but a brief season of defeat for him. His humorous shrewdness flew to his aid. "I guess," said he, "that my beard grows faster than anybody's you ever saw. I shaved not long ago, and shaved with my left hand, too—to keep my razor in the same shape and temper, you understand—but my beard grows so fast that I don't look like it. One of my neighbors tells me that I could make money growin' hair to stuff buggy cushions with, and maybe I could, but I never tried it; never had the time, somehow. Now, just hit her a lick or two on that strop and you'll be all right."

"You say your people came from Connecticut?"

"Yes, Sir, from right up the river."

"Did any of the family go on further South?"

"I think so. I had an uncle, younger a good deal than my daddy. He went South, married there and died in the war, on the rebel side. But he left Connecticut long before I was born. We tried to look up the family some time ago; I thought we'd like to have a warm place to go sometime in the winter; and, Sir, I got a letter from my cousin, tellin' me to come. He lives in Mississippi—name's Bugg Peters. Why, what are you so astonished at, Mister? It's a fact, and my name's Sam Peters. Well, I'll go out and hitch up the horse by the time you get shaved."