Again Slavens felt the wonder of this man's softness for his son, but pity was tinctured with the thought that if it had been applied in season to shaping the young man's life, and his conscience, and his sense of justice, it might have commanded more respect. But he knew that this was the opportunity to make the one big chance which the years had been keeping from him. At the start Slavens had told the old man that his son had a chance for life; he had not said how precariously it lay balanced upon the lip of the dark cañon, nor how an adverse breath might send it beyond the brink. The weight of the responsibility now lay on him alone. Failure would bring upon him an avalanche of blame; success a glorious impetus to his new career. He took a walk down to the river to think about it, and breathe over it, and get himself steadied. When he came back he found Smith there, unloading Agnes' things, soaking up the details of the tragedy with as much satisfaction as a toad refreshing itself in a rain. Smith was no respecter of office or social elevation. If a man deserved shooting, then he ought to be shot, according to Smith's logic. As he made an excuse to stay around longer by assisting the doctor to raise Agnes' tent, he expressed his satisfaction that Jerry Boyle had received part payment, at least, of what was due him. "But I tell you," said he to the doctor in confidence, turning a wary eye to see that Agnes was out of hearing just then. "I'm glad he got it the way he did. I was afraid one time that girl over there was goin' to let him have it. I could see it in her eye." "You can see almost anything in a woman's eye if your imagination is working right," the doctor told him, rather crabbedly. "You don't need to believe it if you don't want to," returned Smith, somewhat offended, "but I tell you that girl'd shoot a man in a minute if he got too fresh!" "I believe you're right about that, Smith," agreed the doctor, "so let's you and I be careful that we don't get too fresh." Smith said no more, but he kept turning his eye upon the doctor as he got his wagon ready to set off on his return, with a good deal of unfriendliness in it. Evidently it had come into his mind only then that Dr. Slavens was assuming a sort of proprietary air around Agnes. With his foot on the brake and his lines drawn up, Smith looked down and addressed her. "Well, I don't suppose you'll be back on the river for some time?" "I expect it will be a long time," she replied, evading exposition of her plans. "I'll keep my eye on the place for you, and see that them fellers don't cut down your timber," he offered. She thanked him. "When you come over that way, take a look at that sign on the front of my store," said Smith, giving her a significant, intimate glance. "The more you see that name in print the better you like it."