Blade ate, indeed, as a man starved, and did not seem to care if Tappan’s supplies were low. He did not talk. After the meal he craved a pipe and tobacco. Then he smoked in silence, in a slow realizing content. The morrow had no fears for him. The flickering ruddy light from the camp fire shone on his strong face. Tappan saw in him the drifter, the drinker, the brawler, a man with good in him, but over whom evil passion or temper dominated. Presently he smoked the pipe out, and with reluctant hand knocked out the ashes and returned it to Tappan. “I reckon I’ve some news thet’d interest you,” he said. “You have?” queried Tappan. “Yes, if you’re the Tappan who tried to run off with Jake Beam’s wife.” “Well, I’m that Tappan. But I’d like to say I didn’t know she was married.” “Shore, I know thet. So does everybody in the Tonto. You were just meat for thet Beam gang. They had played the trick before. But accordin’ to what I hear thet trick was the last fer Madge Beam. She never came back to this country. An’ Jake Beam, when he was drunk, owned up thet she’d left him in California. Some hint at worse. Fer Jake Beam came back a harder man. Even his gang said thet.” “Is he in the Tonto now?” queried Tappan, with a thrill of fire along his veins. “Yep, thar fer keeps,” replied Blade, grimly. “Somebody shot him.” “Ahuh!” exclaimed Tappan with a deep breath of relief. There came a sudden cooling of the heat of his blood. After that there was a long silence. Tappan dreamed of the woman who had loved him. Blade brooded over the camp fire. The wind moaned fitfully in the lofty pines on the slope. A wolf mourned as if in hunger. The stars appeared to obscure their radiance in haze. “Reckon thet wind sounds like storm,” observed Blade, presently. “I’ve heard it for weeks now,” replied Tappan. “Are you a woodsman?” “No, I’m a desert man.” “Wal, you take my hunch an’ hit the trail fer low country.” This was well meant, and probably sound advice, but it alienated Tappan. He had really liked this hearty-voiced stranger. Tappan thought moodily of his slowly ingrowing mind, of the narrowness of his soul. He was past interest in his fellow men. He lived with a dream. The only living creature he loved was a lop-eared, lazy burro, growing old in contentment. Nevertheless that night Tappan shared one of his two blankets. In the morning the gray dawn broke, and the sun rose without its brightness of gold. There was a haze over the blue sky. Thin, swift-moving clouds scudded up out of the southwest. The wind was chill, the forest shaggy and dark, the birds and squirrels were silent. “Wal, you’ll break camp to-day,” asserted Blade. “Nope. I’ll stick it out yet a while,” returned Tappan. “But, man, you might get snowed in, an’ up hyar thet’s serious.” “Ahuh! Well, it won’t bother me. An’ there’s nothin’ holdin’ you.” “Tappan, it’s four days’ walk down out of this woods. If a big snow set in, how’d I make it?”