"Yes," I agreed. "There is no doubt he lied to you." Hazen had a letter to write and he bent to it. I sat by the stove and watched him and considered. He had not yet finished the letter when we heard Marshey returning. His dragging feet on the stair were unmistakable. At the sound of his weary feet some tide of indignation surged up in me. I was minded to do violence to Hazen Kinch. But--a deeper impulse held my hand from the man. Marshey came in and his weary eyes wandered about the room. They inspected the floor; they inspected me; they inspected Hazen Kinch's table, and they rose at last humbly to Hazen Kinch. "Well?" said Hazen. "I lost a dollar," Marshey told him. "I 'lowed I might have dropped it here." Hazen frowned. "You told me eleven-fifty was all you had." "This here dollar wa'n't mine." The money-lender laughed. "Likely! Who would give you a dollar? You lied to me, or you're lying now. I don't believe you lost a dollar." Marshey reiterated weakly: "I lost a dollar." "Well," said Hazen, "there's no dollar of yours here." "It was to git medicine," Marshey said. "It wa'n't mine." Hazen Kinch exclaimed: "By God, I believe you're accusing me!" Marshey lifted both hands placatingly. "No, Mr. Kinch. No, sir." His eyes once more wandered about the room. "Mebbe I dropped it in the snow," he said. He turned to the door. Even in his slow shuffle there was a hint of trembling eagerness to escape. He went out and down the stairs. Hazen looked at me, his old face wrinkling mirthfully. "You see?" he said. I left him a little later and went out into the street. On the way to the hotel I stopped for a cigar at the drug store. Marshey was there, talking with the druggist. I heard the druggist say: "No, Marshey, I'm sorry. I've been stung too often." Marshey nodded humbly. "I didn't 'low you'd figure to trust me." he agreed. "It's all right. I didn't 'low you would." It was my impulse to give him the dollar he needed, but I did not do it. An overpowering compulsion bade me keep my hands off in this matter. I did not know what I expected, but I felt the imminence of the fates. When I went out into the snow it seemed to me the groan of the gale was like the slow grind of millstones, one upon the other. I thought long upon the matter of Hazen Kinch before sleep came that night. Toward morning the snow must have stopped; and the wind increased and carved the drifts till sunrise, then abruptly died. I met Hazen at the postoffice at ten and he said: "I'm starting home." I asked: "Can you get through?" He laughed. "I will get through," he told me. "You're in haste." "I want to see that boy of mine," said Hazen Kinch. "A fine boy, man! A fine boy!" "I'm ready," I said. When we took the road the mare was limping. But she seemed to work out the stiffness in her knees and after a mile or so of the hard going she was moving smoothly enough. We made good time.