"Nonsense! Booze killed her. Come, Charley, dismount, poor girl, and we'll turn old Peter loose," as they reached the camp. Charley dismounted, then stood staring levelly into Roger's eyes. "I let my love for Dick kill her. I hate him now. Oh, how I hate him!" "Don't talk about that," exclaimed Roger. "Charley, let's go into the living tent out of the sun." They sat down side by side on one of the trunks. Roger had a vague notion that Charley would find relief if she could weep. But he had no notion of how to make her do so. He took one of her feverish, trembling hands in his and began talking at random. "You are so like Felicia. You two always were getting confused in my mind and right now it's worse than ever. She loved me as much as I loved her. And now you'll have to try to be fond of me too, for her sake, Charley, and overlook my failings. You didn't kill her, my dear. She might have been bitten anywhere and at any time. Try to think of that. Why, you took wonderful care of her. Such care as never was on sea nor land, she used to say to me." Felicia's familiar little phrase was too much for Charley. Suddenly she ran over to one of the cots and dropping there burst into tears. Then Roger, wiping the sweat from his face, left her while he went out to boil the tea kettle. When he returned in about half an hour, he was able to persuade Charley to drink a cup of strong tea and eat a cracker. The sun had set by the time she had finished, and she asked him to walk with her up and down the sand before the door. How many hours he paced up and down in the hot darkness with Charley clinging to his arm, he could not tell. She did not cry again. Her agony of mind, like Roger's, was too deep for tears. She could only wring her hands and stumble back and forth like a hunted thing. It was Roger's first experience in trying to assuage the grief of any one else. He discovered resources within himself of which he never before had dreamed. "We were all to blame, Charley," he insisted again and again. "No, the fault was mine! Oh, little, lovely Felicia! Roger, you must know that though I wouldn't let you strike Dick, I hate him! I hate him!" "Good God, Charley! Let's not bring Dick in, to-night. We have our own private hell as he has his. Do you know that I'm realizing that what you said is right? That if Felicia had seen me again in one of my temper fits, it might have driven her away, just as this did. I'll never lose control of my temper again, Charley." She did not answer except to groan. After a time, Roger said, "I'm thinking about Dick's wound. If it isn't attended to, soon, gangrene may set in. You and I had better drive him into town to-morrow." "We'll not. He deserves to lose his leg!" "Perhaps he does. But we aren't the ones to say so. Come into the tent, Charley, you are staggering and so am I."