He suffered with the misery of indecision. Habit inclined him to flee from the scene of the murder. Fear of the law urged him. Three nights after he had been brought to Grant, he dressed and crept down the back stairs, and made his way to the railroad station. Twice he had heard the midnight freight stop and cut out cars on the siding. He hid in the shadows until the freight arrived. He climbed to an empty box-car and waited. Trainmen crunched past on the cinders. A jolt and he was swept away toward the west. He sank into a half sleep as the iron wheels roared and droned beneath him. Chapter XVIII _A Piece of Paper_ In the little desert hotel at Stacey, Mrs. Adams was singing softly to herself as she moved about the dining-room helping Anita clear away the breakfast dishes. Mrs. Adams had heard from Lorry. He had secured a place in the Ranger Service. She was happy. His letter had been filled with enthusiasm for the work and for his chief, Bud Shoop. This in itself was enough to make her happy. She had known Bud in Las Cruces. He was a good man. And then--Jim had settled down. Only last week he had ridden over and told her how they were getting on with the work at the ranch. He had hinted then that he had laid his guns away. Perhaps he had wanted her to know _that_ more than anything else. She had kissed him good-bye. His gray eyes had been kind. "Some day, Annie," he had said. Her face flushed as she recalled the moment. A boot-heel gritted on the walk. She turned. Waring was standing in the doorway. His face was set and hard. Involuntarily she ran to him. "What is it, Jim? Lorry?" He shook his head. She saw at once that he was dressed for a long ride and that--an unusual circumstance--a gun swung at his hip. He usually wore a coat and carried his gun in a shoulder holster. But now he was in his shirt-sleeves. A dread oppressed her. He was ready on the instant to fight, but with whom? Her eyes grew big. "What is it?" she whispered again. "The Brewster boys got Pat." "Not--they didn't kill him!" Waring nodded. "But, Jim--" "In the Red Arroyo on the desert road. I found him. I came to tell you." "And you are going--" "Yes. I was afraid this would happen. Pat made a mistake." "But, Jim! The law--the sheriff--you don't have to go." "No," he said slowly. "Then why do you go? I thought you would never do that again. I--I--prayed for you, Jim. I prayed for you and Lorry. I asked God to send you back to me with your two hands clean. I told Him you would never kill again. Oh, Jim, I wanted you--here! Don't!" she sobbed. He put his arm round her shoulders. Stooping, he kissed her. "You are going?" she asked, and her hands dropped to her sides.