She followed her conductor through the stifling prison-yard, cut off by the encircling hills from every current of air. On the hill-side, where the convicts were breaking stone, it seemed even hotter, the oven-like breath of the dog-day sun rebounding into one's face in almost palpable pulsations. Moss was one of a gang of fifty. He was naked to the waist, and his broad, sweaty back glistened in the sunlight like the skin of a porpoise; yet, in spite of the heat, his sledge rose and fell with the regularity of machinery. "Has he given you any trouble?" asked Mrs. Harper of the guard. "No'm. He ain't that kind. He's the kind that gits gloomy and either dies or goes nutty. But after a year or two we'll probably make a trusty of him, and then he'll be happier. Murderers generally make the best trusties." When Mrs. Harper, after going forward a few steps alone, with a quickened pulse, spoke his name, Moss' sledge hung in mid-air, and he hearkened without looking up, as if doubting his ears. It was not until she repeated his name that he turned toward her. His face was neither bitter nor vindictive, but dull, oh, unutterably dull, as if he had said farewell forever to hope. He did not speak--to speak was against the rules. He did not even smile, but simply touched the brim of his wool hat. Mrs. Harper, with a catch in her breath, stepped still nearer. "Moss, I remain your friend," she began tremulously. "Benjy is with us, and we are taking the best care of him. And, listen, Moss! This is what I came to tell you. I am authorized to say, positively, by a power that is supreme, that, if your behavior is good, your detention here will not be more than eighteen months, and I hope only twelve. You can stand the work that long, can't you, knowing that we are waiting for you, ready to give you a home?" Still his expression did not change, and still he did not speak. "Don't you--don't you understand, Moss?" she asked, with quivering lips, fearful that his mind had already been shocked. His slow words then came: "Yassum, I kin stan' it. I could stan' it foreveh. But _she's_ daid," he cried hoarsely. "I kill her--I choke her--with that han'!" thrusting out the member. "The same han' she used to put her li'l' han's roun' and hole so tight--same han' I used to pat her cheek with--same han'--" A shudder passed over his huge form until his teeth chattered. "Oh, I know it's hard!" exclaimed the tender woman, suffering only less than he. "You have sinned, and you must do penance. But we've all sinned, and all done penance, and yet happiness comes again. Believe me, Moss, some day you'll be happy again. Be brave, and one month from to-day I'll be here to see you again. Meanwhile, can I do anything for you--take any word to Benjy?" His lusterless eyes seemed to brighten a little. "Mis' Pen, will you sot up a li'l' tombstone on her grave? Juss a li'l' one, so I kin fine it some day, when I gits out?" And Penelope, with blinding eyes, promised.