On the whole, however, it made little difference to his neighbors what Bud was about as long as they were not immediately involved. That a man out there alone on the mountain-side, in Stygian darkness, was battling with all the devils of Hell did not interest them. Bruised and sore from head to foot, with the tips of his raw fingers quivering, Bud could fight it out and welcome as long as he kept to himself. It even made little difference whether he lost or won. As he staggered up the rocky road, he would have been the first to admit the truth of this. This was his fight now--his alone. He could depend upon neither God, man, nor the Devil for assistance. He was against the universe and the universe against him. Even the mountain wind bred in his own mountain trees had played him false. It had lured him into danger at the door. It was trying to press him back even now and whipping his black hair into his eyes. In desperate rage he cursed it as he stumbled on. No matter how small the man, there is something Homeric about his struggles when he comes to grips with elemental forces. Whether king or common slave, a man who swayed by big passions does his best against odds acquires a certain majesty. Men respect even rats who fight hard for life. If Bud had been dominated at the moment of his escape by nothing but black revenge, this, before he returned to the shack, had changed into something else, no less intense, but on the whole worthier. His objective remained still the same--the death of Allston. But while he lay bound upon the floor suffering acute physical pain, he had looked forward to this as a matter solely of personal satisfaction. It was man to man then, with Roxie stimulating the enmity, but she herself almost wholly eliminated from the final issue. Once Bud was free and, rifle in hand, within sight of his own door again, the girl assumed to him her old importance. Because, as he realized now, with Allston dead, she would be left more than ever his. The first time he had secured no more than temporary possession; this time possession would be permanent. So after all he did not stand altogether alone against the universe. With Roxie still alive that was not possible. God, man, and the Devil--they could all be against him, but as long as he kept within striking distance of this girl he could still hope. In a way she was nearer him at this moment than she had ever been before. He had until now been under certain restraints. She had forced upon him a compromise. For her sake he had twice spared Allston. She could not expect that again of him. The issue now was clean-cut and that suited him better.