"I love you too well to let you wed a man that's fixed like I am--a man that's made such a failure of life--a fugitive--a fellow that has nothing to offer you, and no more standing with your people than a hound dog. I love you better than I do myself or my comfort--or even my life." In anguished silence Judith received the caress; dumb with misery she got to her horse. Creed stood looking up at her for their last words, when, with a rattle and clang, the train from the North swept in and halted. Selim jibed and fought the bit as any sensible mountain horse feels himself entitled to do under similar circumstances; but Judith heeded him almost not at all. "My Lord--who's that?" she cried, staring toward the lighted train where the figure of a man mounted the platform. "What is it?" queried Creed. "Hit looked like Blatch," whispered the girl; "but I reckon it couldn't a-been." "Blatch!" echoed Creed, all on fire in an instant--where now was her poor invalid whose head she had pillowed, of whom she had thought to take care? "Blatch Turrentine!--Good-bye, honey--you mustn't be seen with me. If Blatch is here I've got to find and face him. You see that, don't you?--You understand." And he turned and left her so. Oh, these men, with their quarrels and their nice points of honour--while a woman's heart bleeds under the scuffling feet! She watched him hurry to the train, his staggering step advertising how unfit he was for any such attempt, watched him mount the platform where she had seen the man that looked like Blatch; and then the conductor swung his lantern, the wheels began to revolve, she half cried out, and Selim at the end of his patience, bolted with her and never stopped running till he had topped the rise above the village. Here, with some ado, she got him quieted, brought to a standstill, got off and tightened the girth, for the saddle was slipping dangerously. She climbed on once more, mounting from a fallen tree, and was moving again up the trail when, down toward Garyville, someone called her name. "Judith!" She did not turn her head. She knew to whom the voice belonged. As he rode up to her: "What you doin' here, Blatch Turrentine?" she demanded fiercely, "an' what'll the boys say to you for slippin' away from 'em to-night?" He took her inferred knowledge of all his enterprises without a word of comment. Bringing his mule up closer to her where she sat on Selim he answered: "The boys know whar I'm at. We got word last evenin' that the man I sell to was waitin' for me in Garyville. He don't know nobody but me in the business, and nobody but me could do the arrent. I hauled a load down, an' I would have been back in plenty time, ef I hadn't met you and Bonbright right thar whar that old Cherokee trail comes into the Garyville road." Judith started, her face burned in the darkness, but she said nothing. Blatch peered curiously at her as he went on: