On that occasion he actually succeeded in getting from the bed and standing up. He carefully placed one leaden leg before the other, and was nearly on the threshold of the door when the familiar apparition appeared. "She doesn't know--I'm wise to all that happened--but I know. She had to do that--poor gal!... I'll jest go and tell her it's all right--not to worry none...." Two supple arms caught him. He pushed them away, rather irritably. "Don't butt in.... It's her I'm thinkin' of--Angela. She's sure hard and cold and can't see no good in me,... but she's got to be happy--got to be happy.... Maybe she's right. I'm only fit for hosses and wild women...." He found himself in bed again, and quite unconscious of the fact that he had ever been out of it; but he still continued to ramble on in monotonous and eerie fashion, about Angela, Colorado, fifty thousand pounds, and sundry other things. Full consciousness came early one morning. He had been lying trying to piece together all the queer things that floated to his brain through the medium of his disarranged optic nerve. He succeeded in arriving at the fact that there was a bed and he was lying on it, and that the ceiling was comprised of rough logs.... Then an arm was placed behind his head and a mug of something hot was placed to his lips. But he didn't drink. His sight was coming back at tremendous speed. The hazy face before him took definite shape. A pair of intensely blue eyes were fixed on him, and red shapely lips seemed to smile. "Angela!" he gasped. She nodded and turned her eyes down. "Yes, it is I. Don't talk--you are too weak." "But I don't understand. Why did you come back?" He saw the mouth quiver. "I came back because----" "Go on." "I came back because I told you a lie.... I didn't realize then what a despicable lie it was--one that reflected upon the character of a good friend, and made me seem like dirt in your eyes.... I wanted my freedom at any price, but that price was too high.... I--I couldn't go and let you think--that." Her shoulders shook, and he saw that she was trying to conceal her sobs. "When did you come back?" he queried in a slow voice. "Two days after I left. I found you gone, but knew you must come back, because some of the gear was here." She hesitated. "Did--did you go after--him?" He nodded grimly, and she gave a little cry of terror. "You--you found him?" He nodded affirmatively. "And then----?" "I found him dying from a bad injury." "Dying----?" "Yes. He's dead now." She turned on him with horrified eyes. "You--you didn't kill him?" "Nope. I went there for that, but the Injuns got him first." Tears swam in her eyes. She moved her hands nervelessly and put the painful, crucial question. "Did he know--why you came?" He inclined his head, much affected by her attitude of abject shame. She gave a smothered cry and sank her head into her hands.