The man went out and down the walk with a hurried, determined air, as if afraid to trust his own resolution. As Ridgeley turned toward his desk he met Mrs. Field, who faced him with tears of fervent sympathy in her eyes. "Isn't it awful?" she said, in a half whisper. "Poor fellow, what will become of him?" "Oh, I don't know. He'll get along some way. Such fellows do. I've had 'em before. They try it awhile here; then they move. I can't worry about them." Mrs. Field was not listening to his shifty words. "And then, think of his wife--how she must worry." Ridgeley smiled. "Perhaps it's his mother or a sister." "Anyway, it's awful. Can't something be done for him?" "I guess we've done about all that can be done." "Oh, I wish I could help him! I'll tell Ed about him." "Don't worry about him, Mrs. Field; he ain't worth it." "Oh yes, he is. I feel he's been a fine fellow, and then he's so self-accusing." Her own happiness was so complete, she could not bear to think of others' misery. She told her husband about Williams, and ended by asking, "Can't we do something to help the poor fellow?" Field was not deeply concerned. "No; he's probably past help. Such men are so set in their habits, nothing but a miracle or hypnotism can save them. He'll end up as a 'lumber Jack,' as the townsmen call the hands in the camps." "But he isn't that, Edward. He's finer, some way. You feel he is. Ask Mr. Ridgeley." Ridgeley merely said: "Yes, he seemed to me to be more than a common hand. But, all the same, it won't be two weeks before he'll be in here as drunk as a wild cat, wanting to shoot me for holding back his money." In this way Williams came to be to Mrs. Field a very important figure in the landscape of that region. She often spoke of him, and on the following Saturday night, when Field came home, she anxiously asked, "Is Williams in town?" "No, he hasn't shown up yet." She clapped her hands in delight. "Good! good! He's going to win his fight." Field laughed. "Don't bet on Williams too soon. We'll hear from him before the week is out." "When are we going to visit the camp?" she asked, changing the subject. "As soon as it warms up a little. It is too cold for you." She had a laugh at him. "You were the one who wanted to 'plunge into the snowy vistas.'" He evaded her joke on him by assuming a careless tone. "I'm not plunging as much as I was; the snow is too deep." "When you go I want to go with you--I want to see Williams." "Ha!" he snorted, melodramatically. "She scorns me faithful heart. She turns--" Mrs. Field smiled faintly. "Don't joke about it, Ed. I can't get that wife out of my mind." III A few very cold gray days followed, and then the north wind cleared the sky; and, though it was still cold, it was pleasant. The sky had only a small white cloud here and there to make its blueness the more profound.