had occurred in that time staring him in the face, the impression augmented immeasurably, haunted him like a ghostly presence.  Not for a minute since his return had he been alone.  Not for an instant had he been without a revolver at hand.  All the previous night, despite the grumbling protest of the overseer with whom he had bunked, a lamp had burned beside the bed; yet even then he could not sleep.  Whether or no he felt contrition for the past, this man, he could not have told, he never paused to consider.  All he knew was that he had a deathly fear of this silent waste and of a certain human who dwelt somewhere therein.  Repugnant as consideration of the return had been, it was as nothing compared with the reality.  Had he realised in advance what the actual experience of his coming would mean, even the consideration of money, badly as he needed it, could not have bought his presence.  Now that he was here he must needs see the transaction through; he could not well do otherwise; but as the afternoon drew to a close and the necessity of tarrying a second night became assured, the premonition of retribution, that had before lowered merely as a possibility, loomed into the proportions of certainty.  Then it was that in abandon he began to drink; not at stated intervals, as had been his habit, but frequently, all but continuously, until even his tolerant companions had exchanged glances of understanding.

To all things, however, there is an end, and at last the deal was complete.  Within the stuffy living-room, hazy now with tobacco smoke, by the uncertain light of a sputtering kerosene lamp Craig had accomplished a sprawling signature and received in return a check on a Chicago bank.  It was already late, and very soon the new owner, with a significant look at a half-drained flask by the other’s hand, and a curt “Good-night,” had departed for bed.  Immediately following, with a thinly veiled apology, the lawyer had likewise excused himself, and Craig and his one-time overseer were alone.  For five minutes thereafter the two men sat so in silence; then, at last, despite his muddled brain, the former realised that the big Irishman was observing him with a concentration that was significant.  Ever short of temper, the man’s nerves were stretched to the jangling point this night, and the look irritated him.  Responsive, he scowled prodigiously.

“Well,” he queried impatiently, “what is it?”

No answer; only, if possible, the look became more analytic than before.

“What’s on your mind?” repeated Craig.  “You make me nervous staring that way.  Speak up if you’ve got anything to say.  Don’t you like my selling and putting you out of a job?”

“No, it’s not that,” refuted the Hibernian.  “There are plenty of other places I can get.  I could stay right here for that matter if I wanted to—­but I don’t.  I wouldn’t live in this house any longer if my pay were doubled.”  As he spoke he had looked away.  Now of a sudden his glance returned.  “I meant to quit anyway, whether you sold or not.”