There must be an end soon. She stopped to drink at a little spring under a jutting bank. Her Sin grew angry, threatened her. She straightened up and went on rounding the turn. A heavy team dragging its load of deftly packed shingles came up the flank of the mountain, its driver walking slowly beside. The brawny blue-shirted lumberman did not speak but drew the horses aside to let good footing be for the woman and his eyes looked with friendly respect upon the neat young figure in the gray print dress. The woman felt the look penetrating deep, into a place thin and clear, a place that existed long before her Sin came upon her. She bent her head and moved quickly past, down the long slope of the road toward the swift creek. A rough shack set high on the bank above the big mill dam came into view. Would this be the place? Her Sin gave no sign. Now that she was in motion it lay quiescent, pacified. She stood still in the road. Her wide, gray eyes rested in appraisement on the house. A dirty old woman smoking a corn-cob pipe slouched around the corner from the back. On her wrinkled face greedy curiosity showed itself. She took her pipe out of her mouth and started to speak. The woman of the road began walking again very fast. She went down across the bridge and past the mill from which came forth the rhythmical high hungry whine of the saw cutting virgin timber, the slap-thwack of boards thrown from one receiver to another. The road was going up again past a house set high to the left, a large house with an air of well-being. Perhaps here? She went up the steps from the road, walked the single board path to the porch, knocked against the casing of the open door. From an inner room a woman came, in a blue wrapper, young and blowsy, with red eyes, holding a sleeping baby to her breast. “Will you give me a drink?” “Yes. It’s hot today, ain’t it? Come right in. You must be tuckered out walking in the sun.” Voluble, she led the way to the back porch. “There it is in the big tin pail. Wait a minute. I’ll git you a glass.” She fetched a heavy tumbler from the kitchen shelf. “It’s prob’ly warm. I can’t git water many times with this baby to look after. He cries every time I put him down. It’s all I kin do to git the men’s meals. They’s two from the mill besides my husband.” There was no place here for her. The woman drank the water hastily. “I’m much obliged.” She turned back through the house. “I’ll be going on.” She was on the porch. “Better set a minute. Needn’t be hurryin’ off so quick.” There was slight resentment in the tone. The woman was on the walk. “I have to be going. I’m much obliged.” She went down the steep steps into the road. She followed the road doggedly. A little house to the left, door and windows shut. She went up and peered in. It was empty. Here? She looked around fearful. Her Sin gave a great lurch within her. She shuddered. She could not be alone with it here.