But, whatever came—­whatever there was to know—­he meant to go at once to headquarters.  He would remain, too, until Peter Greyson was sober enough to state facts.  He recalled clearly Jim’s estimate of Greyson and his dual nature depending so largely upon the effect of the mountain whisky.

It was late November when Truedale set forth.  No one made any objection to his going now.  Things were running smoothly and if he had to go at all to straighten out any loose ends, he had better go at once.

To Lynda the journey seemed simple enough.  Truedale had left, among other belongings, his manuscript and books.  Naturally he would not trust them to another’s careless handling.

At Washington, Truedale bought a rough tramping rig and continued his journey with genuine enjoyment of the adventure.  Now that he was nearing the scene of his past experience he could better understand the delay.  Things moved so slowly among the hills and naturally Nella-Rose, trusting and fond, was part of the sluggish life.  How she would show her small, white teeth when, smiling in his arms, she told him all about it!  It would not take long to make her forget the weary time of absence and White’s misconception.

Truedale proceeded by deliberate stages.  He wanted to gather all he possibly could as a foundation upon which to build.  The first day after he left the train at the station—­and it had bumped at the end of the rails just as it had on his previous trip—­he walked to the Centre and there encountered Merrivale.

“Well, stranger,” the old man inquired, “whar yer goin’, if it ain’t askin’ too much?”

And Truedale expansively explained.  He was tramping through the mountains for pure enjoyment; had heard of the hospitality he might expect and meant to test it.

Merrivale was pleased but cautious.  He was full of questions himself, but ran to cover every time his visitor ventured one.  Truedale soon learned his lesson and absorbed what was offered without openly claiming more.  He remained over night with Merrivale and stocked up the next morning from the store.

He had heard much, but little to any purpose.  He carried away with him a pretty clear picture of Burke Lawson who, by Merrivale’s high favour, appeared heroic.  The storm, the search, Lawson’s escape and supposed carrying off of Nella-Rose, were the chief topics of conversation.  Merrivale chuckled in delight over this.

The afternoon of the second day Truedale reached Lone Dome and came upon Peter, sober and surprisingly respectable, sunning himself on the west side of the house.

The first glance at the stately old figure, gone to decay like a tree with dead rot, startled and amazed Truedale and he thanked heaven that the master of Lone Dome was himself and therefore to be relied upon; no one could possibly suspect Peter of cunning or deceit in his present condition.

Greyson greeted the stranger cordially.  He was in truth desperately forlorn and near the outer edge of endurance.  An hour more and he would have defied the powers that had recently taken control of him, and made for the still in the deep woods; but the coming of Truedale saved him from that and diverted his tragic thoughts.